


Oxford

by SigmaCreations



Category: Spooks | MI-5
Genre: Car Sex, F/M, Falling In Love, Marriage Proposal, Misunderstandings, Possibly Unrequited Love, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2018-06-05 23:14:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 45,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6727357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SigmaCreations/pseuds/SigmaCreations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU about Ruth and Harry meeting when they are younger. Set in the 1990s while Ruth is at university and moving on from there. Reviews are always welcome and very much appreciated. Cheers, S.C.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_25 th April 1991_

_Oxford_

 

A group of students wonder into the bar, chatting and laughing together. The lone man in the corner raises his head and watches them for a few moments, before sighing heavily and taking a gulp of his drink, draining the glass. Slowly he gets up and staggers slightly as he moves to the bar and orders another double. As he waits for the barman to pour it, a girl comes up to stand next to him, and addressing the other bar attendant, she places an order for six drinks. She waits beside him patiently, humming a tune under her breath. He's surprised to find that it's the Ode to Joy. His interest is piqued and he studies her surreptitiously. She's not very tall and has shoulder-length chestnut hair that is tied back in a pony tail. She's wearing jeans and a loose fitting top under which he's sure she's hiding a good figure, judging by the shape of her thighs and calves. She's probably in her early twenties, he guesses. She turns her head toward him and graces him with a small smile, but it's her eyes that capture his attention immediately. They are a sparkling blue-grey that reminds him of a stormy ocean. She must see the admiration in his gaze because she blushes slightly before turning away. The barman plonks his drink down on the counter, breaking into his thoughts.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, puts the money on the bar and lifts the glass to his lips. He takes a small sip and becomes aware of the girl, no woman he corrects himself, next to him watching him. “It's my daughter's birthday,” he offers as an explanation; he isn't quite sure why. “She's eleven today.” A look of pride flickers in his eyes before it is replaced by pain and regret.

“Congratulations,” she murmurs, not quite certain of what else she can say.

The man next to her looks to be in his late thirties, broad shouldered and fit, judging from the way his shirt hugs his biceps and shoulders. His hair is light brown and cut very short, but it's his eyes that have captured her attention. Even though his face is without expression, his honey brown eyes betray the turmoil inside him. A divorcee, she concludes, who's not on good terms with his ex and was not allowed to attend his daughter's birthday party, or perhaps couldn't attend due to a business meeting. He works too hard and doesn't have time for his family, which he loves dearly, hence the divorce. He looks down at his drink and nods at her response.

“It must be hard for you not to be able to be at her celebration,” she adds. His eyes snap to hers, and she realises that he's more sober than he lets on.

“Couldn't get back in time. I had a business meeting today,” he nods in agreement.

The bar man brings over the girl's drinks just then, and she smiles at the man next to her before heading back to her friends. The man staggers back to his table and flops down on the chair where he nurses his drink.

 

* * *

 

“Alpha One,” a voice in his ear intones a good half hour later, “the target's on his way; he's just outside the pub.” The man grunts once to acknowledge the message. Then he hears the pub door open and distinguishes the heavy footfall of a new customer. He's deliberately sitting at the target's favourite table.

A few moments later, a man in his late forties approaches his table with a drink. “Is this seat taken?” he asks in a deep voice.

“It's all yours,” he replies, slurring his words a little. “I was just leaving.”

He gets up and almost falls over. He grabs the table to steady himself, but he almost knocks that over too. The commotion draws the attention of the other customers, and they watch him with mild interest and amusement; only the girl from the bar watches with concern. Something stirs inside him, but he forces himself to stay focused on his work.

“Sorry,” he murmurs and tries to stand up once more. This time he manages it but staggers sideways into the man with the deep voice. He mumbles another apology and slowly, but painfully, continues his performance until he's outside the pub.

“Nice work, Alpha One,” comes the voice in his ear. “We've got his position and the audio's working too. You can head back to base.”

“Roger that,” the man murmurs and adds, “Going off comms,” before reaching into his ear and pulling out a listening device, which he places in a little container and then pockets it.

The pub door swings open behind him, and he leans into the wall mindful of keeping up appearances. A hand touches him lightly on the shoulder.

“Are you okay?” a small voice asks. “Can I get you a cab?”

“I'm fine,” he slurs and turns to face the woman from the pub.

“You left your jacket in there,” she says and offers it out to him.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, taking it from her outstretched hand and attempting to stand up straight.

His head spins and he almost topples forward. Her arms shoot out to steady him, and he feels their warmth through the thin cotton of his shirt. She pushes him back against the wall and releases him gingerly.

“I'll call you a cab,” she says determinedly and fishes into her pocket for her phone.

“What's your name?” he asks in a husky voice that sends shivers down her spine.

She pauses in the act of scrolling though her contacts for a cab number, surprised at her physical reaction to his voice. “Ruth,” she murmurs. “And yours?”

“Paul,” he lies and adds, “Are you a student here?”

“Hmmm,” she answers as she shifts her focus back to her phone. “Classics.”

“I went to Oxford too, you know,” he murmurs as his eyes glazes over and he takes a trip down memory lane. “Not Classics though.”

Ruth doesn't hear him as she's busy ordering him a cab. She talks to the person at the other end of the line and makes a frustrated sound before hanging up and trying two more numbers without luck.

“Friday night,” she murmurs and then turns to Paul and says, “No cabs for an hour. Where are you staying? I could give you a lift in my flatmate's car if you like. We'll have to walk a couple of blocks to my place though. Do you think you can manage?”

“Of course,” he replies and makes an effort to stand on his feet again.

He sways ominously, and she reaches to put an arm round his waist.

“Lean on me,” she orders and waits until he drapes his arm round her shoulders. Then slowly, they make their way down the street. He struggles to control his reaction to the feel of her small frame nestled against his side and her light perfume, a mixture of citrus and exotic spices, that reaches his nose as he breathes in. Silently, Ruth guides him to her building.

“Bugger,” she swears under her breath when she notices that her flatmate's car isn't outside. Paul looks down at her and she explains, “Sorry. My flatmate said she'd stay in today, but it looks like she's out and has taken her car.”

“It's okay,” he slurs. “I'll walk,” but he makes no move to let go of her shoulders.

“Where did you say you're staying?” she asks.

“Victoria House Hotel,” he replies.

“Oh Gosh,” she sighs. “You can't walk all the way there in this state. Come upstairs with me. I'll make you some coffee and you can sober up a bit before you set off.”

He eyes her appraisingly and is impressed. She doesn't appear to be scared of him. It's probably a result of the fine performance he's putting on as a drunk. She's probably certain that he wouldn't be able to stay upright long enough to try anything, let alone manage to get an erection. He nods his agreement, surprised at himself for accepting her offer. He has no time to probe his feelings, however, as she steers him to the front door and up the stairs.

She lets him lean on the wall for support while she unlocks the door to her flat. Then she motions him in, and he staggers thought into a small sitting room. He gets himself to a comfortable looking sofa and plonks himself down on it. In the mean time, Ruth has hung up her coat, unzipped her boots, and thrown them by the door.

“I'll put the kettle on,” she offers and disappears through a door to the kitchen, but her voice drifts back to him as she says, “I'm afraid I only have instant coffee. I prefer tea myself so I only have it for guests.”

“Instant's fine,” he replies and kicks his shoes off.

He leans back onto the couch and closes his eyes. When she returns a few minutes later, he pretends to be asleep. Ruth sees him sleeping and smiles. She picks up one of the blankets from a nearby chair and covers him with it. Then she sits in the arm chair, and grabbing the TV remote and a blanket for herself, she settles down to drink her tea and watch some Friday night television. She watches while she sips her tea, but turns it off as soon as she's finished. Paul decides that this is probably the right time to pretend to wake up, but he changes his mind when, moments later, he hears the key in the lock and Ruth's flatmate enters the room.

“Hi,” she greets, and then spotting Paul on the sofa, she asks, “Who's this?”

“His name's Paul,” Ruth murmurs in a soft voice so as not to wake him. “I met him at the pub.”

“Goodness me, Ruth!” her friend exclaims, and walking up to her, places an ice cold hand on her forehead and asks, “Are you ill? You never bring men home. And from the pub too. I would have thought the library would have been more your scene.”

Ruth laughs and swats her hand away, “I'm fine, Maggie. It's Paul who isn't. He's drunk. It sounded like he was drowning his sorrows. It's his daughter's birthday today and he couldn't be with her.”

“Now, _that_ explains it. You're always soft when it comes to fathers and daughters, Ruth,” Maggie sighs.

“Well you probably would be too if you'd lost your dad when you were eleven,” she murmurs. “Anyway, the poor man couldn't walk straight, and I couldn't get a cab, so I thought I'd drive him to his hotel. But when we got here, you'd taken your car, so I invited him up for a cup of coffee and he fell asleep.”

“Dear, sweet Ruth, always taking care of everyone,” her friend smiles. “That's what I love about you.”

“I'll bet,” Ruth murmurs. “Especially when you're the one who's drunk.”

The girl laughs and kisses her cheek before saying, “Well, wake him up then and take him home. You can have the car.” She walks up to Paul and peers at his face before adding, “Better yet, call a cab. He isn't even good looking. How old is he?”

“ _Maggie_ ,” Ruth hisses. “Don't be rude. He's a business man, not a student.” Then she turns her eyes on him to study his face and adds quietly, “Besides, he has gorgeous eyes.”

Maggie's head snaps round to look at her and she teases, “Goodness, Ruth, you really _like_ him.”

Ruth glares at her, but Maggie holds her gaze, and eventually, Ruth gives in, shrugs, and says, “Not a crime is it?”

Paul is very grateful for the blanket that covers him as he listens to the girls discussing him. He's having trouble keeping his breathing deep and even. Ruth finds him attractive and the thought makes his heart beat faster. He can't quite figure out why this is the case. He certainly finds her beautiful, but the attraction is much more than a mere physical one. He doesn't quite know what to do with it. He's somehow sure that sleeping with her will only make it worse. And in any case, the gentleman inside him would never allow himself to take advantage of her in that way. She's been kind to him, and he can't bring himself to hurt her by taking her to bed under false pretences.

“Look!” Maggie exclaims suddenly. “I think he's waking up.”

His uneven breathing has apparently been noticed, so Paul stretches and opens his eyes. At least he can pretend to be less drunk now, though he'll have to fake the beginning of a huge hangover. “Hi,” he murmurs rather huskily and looks up at them through heavy lidded eyes. “Sorry, did I fall asleep? Who are you?”

“This is Maggie,” Ruth answers, “my flatmate.”

“Hi,” Maggie says.

“Hello,” Paul gets up slowly, wincing slightly as he moves, and extends his hand to her. “Paul Hill. Pleased to meet you.” They shake hands and Paul continues, “I'm so sorry to have imposed on your hospitality like this. I'd better be getting back to my hotel.”

“I'll give you a lift,” Ruth offers.

“No, no,” Paul insists. “I'll find my way all right. You've already done too much.”

“It's no trouble at all,” Ruth replies, and ignoring his protests, gets up and puts her boots back on.

“Don't waste your breath,” Maggie says to Paul. “She won't give up until she's seen you safely home. I think she sees it as her civic duty to take care of the all drunks in Oxford.” Ruth glares at her and Maggie chuckles. “Goodnight, Paul,” she says.

“Goodnight, Maggie,” he murmurs, and putting his shoes and jacket back on, follows Ruth out of the flat.

“Walking normally again I see,” Ruth observes with a small smile as they walk down the stairs.

“Yes,” Paul murmurs, and lifting his hand to his head gingerly, he adds, “but I have a splitting headache.”

They get into Maggie's car and Ruth starts the engine. She drives confidently though Oxford like the long time resident she is.

“How long are you in town for?” Ruth asks presently.

Paul hesitates and then says, “Just tonight. I leave in the morning.”

There is a brief pause and then Ruth asks, “So where's home?”

“London,” he answers easily and then adds, “What about you? How long until you graduate?”

“A couple of months,” Ruth replies. “I have exams coming up soon.”

“Good luck with them,” Paul says warmly. “What are you planning to do next?”

“I'm not sure,” she says thoughtfully. “I don't want to do research. I want something more challenging that will make a difference.”

“Politics?” he offers.

“Good heavens, no!” Ruth exclaims. “I don't think I'm dishonest enough, or have a big enough ego.”

He chuckles and Ruth's stomach flips. “Are you married?” she asks suddenly and then promptly turns bright red and wishes that the earth would just swallow her up.

“Divorced,” he answers evenly, though a small smile tugs at his lips.

“I thought so,” she murmurs and sensing his eyes on her explains, “When you mentioned your daughter, I thought you sounded heartbroken that you couldn’t be with her on her birthday. If you lived with her, you wouldn't have sounded so hurt.”

Paul marvels at her deductive abilities. He really was heartbroken that he couldn't be with his daughter on her birthday. “You're good at reading people,” he murmurs.

They've stopped at a traffic light, and she turns to look at him. Raw emotion radiates out of his expressive eyes, and it makes her insides clench tight.

“Paul?” she whispers and lifts her left hand to touch his arm.

And then suddenly, his self-control snaps and he leans forward, pulls her toward him, and kisses her firmly on the lips. She recovers quickly from her surprise, and wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulls him close. Their lips part and their tongues swirl together as he frees her hair from its pony tail and slides his fingers through it. A loud hooting from behind brings them back to their surroundings, and Ruth turns her attention back to the road. Her hands are trembling, and she knows that she should stop the car before she causes an accident. She spots a narrow street up ahead and pulls into it, driving a little way before finding a parking spot against a thick hedge. She turns off the engine, and their heavy breathing seems loud in the sudden stillness. Slowly she turns to look at him, but his face is in shadow and she can't make out his expression.

“Paul?” she says a little uncertainly.

“Yes?” comes his deep, husky voice.

“I don't usually do this sort of thing,” she begins and pauses, not quite sure how to continue.

“It's okay, Ruth,” he murmurs. “You don't need to explain. It's my fault. I'm truly very sorry. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that. You were very kind to me, and what I did was unpardonable.”

“I liked it,” Ruth admits shyly. There is silence for a few moments and then she adds, “I'd like it if you did it again.” She can hear his breathing quicken, and she wishes that she could see his face.

“I can't, Ruth,” he says eventually in an unsteady voice. “No matter how beautiful and desirable I might find you. You're so young and have your whole life ahead of you, and I... I'm not who you think I am. I've done some things... I... I just can't.”

Ruth considers what he's saying and then thinks back over her brief acquaintance with this man. There's something different about him, a dangerous side that intrigues her. And yet no matter what he says, she believes that he's a good man because, if he wasn't, he wouldn't hesitate to take advantage of her. And then there's this desire she feels for him, the likes of which she's never felt before. Just feeling his full lips against hers was enough to make her yearn for more and lose all ability to think straight. How many times in a lifetime does one find that? And so she decides that, even if it's only for one night, or perhaps _because_ it's only for one night, she wants to experience making love with this man.

“I know that I don't know you at all,” Ruth says eventually, “but I'm quite good at reading people, and no matter what things you might have done in your life, I can see that you're a good enough person to not try to take advantage of me. I told you that I don't do this sort of thing usually, but the truth is that I've never _wanted_ to before. But when you're near me, when you touch me and kiss me, I feel so... so _alive,_ and I know that I'll forever regret it if... if we don't finish what we started.”

She reaches her hand across the space between them and touches his thigh, and for the second time in one night, his self-control slips. He pulls her to him and kisses her passionately, running his hands thought her hair, sliding them down to cup her breasts. She releases their seat belts and her hands run up and down his chest, unbuttoning his jacket and sliding over his shirt. She pulls it out of his waistband and runs her hands below it across his abdomen, revelling in the feel of his hard muscles. Her fingers are cold, and it adds to his excitement. He groans into her mouth, unbuttons her coat, and pulls up her shirt to run his fingers along her soft skin. He reaches back and unclasps her bra before hitching up her shirt, bending forward, and taking each of her soft nipples into his mouth. They harden instantly in response, and she holds his head down and moans his name.

He lifts his head and says huskily, “Harry. Please call me Harry, my middle name.”

“Harry,” she murmurs, and he groans in response.

“Push your seat back,” he growls, and releasing her, he adjusts his own so that it's as flat as possible.

Then he removes his jacket and unbuttons his shirt. He helps Ruth remove her coat and pull her shirt off. Soon she's naked from the waist up, and he brings his mouth and hands hungrily down on her breasts. He nips, licks, sucks, and strokes her, building her up as his name fills her mind and spills from her lips... Harry. He lets his hand slide down to her jeans and opens them up. She lifts her pelvis up and pulls her jeans and underwear down for him.

He strokes a finger along her delicate folds and murmurs, “God, you're so wet, Ruth.”

He slides a finger inside her as he sucks on her nipple and she comes, clenching her muscles tight around him and moaning in ecstasy. He strokes her soft skin gently as she comes back down and then leans over her lap and begins to build her up again, sucking and licking her clitoris with his mouth while his fingers work their magic inside her. Her second and third orgasms are just as powerful as the first, and Harry feels extreme satisfaction in having brought her to such heights. For the first time in his life, the pleasure of a woman comes before his own.

“Please,” she murmurs in a low throaty voice that arouses him to new heights. “I want to feel you. All of you.”

He lowers his trousers and boxers as she removes her boots and pulls her legs free from her jeans and knickers. Then she straddles him, sitting across his thighs, and strokes a finger down the middle of his chest, looping around his nipples and travelling down to his pubic hair. His breathing becomes heavier, and he holds on tightly to her hips while her finger circles around the base of his shaft. Then she slides it up one side, round the tip of his penis, and down the other.

“Oh God, Ruth,” he groans, “Wait.”

He reaches for his jacket and pulls out his wallet. He opens it up and quickly finds the condom he's looking for. Then he slips the wallet back into his pocket and tosses his jacket into the back before opening the packaging with impatient hands and extracting the thin latex tube. He slides it on expertly and quickly, and then lifting her pelvis with his strong arms, he brings her forward toward his hardened length.

She steadies herself by clasping his shoulders, and then uses one hand to place him at her opening. Slowly he lowers her on top of him, and he slides inside her, making them both groan with pleasure. Once he's completely sheathed in her, they still, adjusting to the feel of each other. “You feel so good, Ruth,” Harry murmurs in her ear. “You're so tight.”

All she can manage to say is his name. He begins to rock backward and forward, moving inside her slowly, gently. She moans and starts to move with him, and he helps her with his strong arms to raise herself until he's almost out before lowering her back down again. It feels so good to have him inside her, but their rhythm is suddenly too slow for her. Moving her left leg up, she plants her foot near the hand brake and begins to move faster and deeper, pulling him out and plunging back in. And before he knows it, Harry loses all ability to think and can only feel as she builds him up, and he climaxes powerfully inside her roaring in ecstasy.

When he comes back to himself, he finds her sitting on his lap with her head on his shoulder, her face buried in his neck, and her fingers drawing lazy patterns on his chest. He hums contentedly and reaches his arms round her to hold her tightly. They stay like this for a while, and when Ruth shivers, he reaches one hand over to her seat, gets her coat, and wraps it around her.

“Better?” he asks and she nods.

“I don't want to leave,” she admits, and it breaks his heart because he knows he has to leave her and soon; they expect him back on the Grid in a few hours.

“Neither do I,” he admits and kisses the top of her head.

“Will I see you again?” she asks timidly.

He's silent for some time thinking about the implications of telling her the truth of who he is and what he does. She'd need to be vetted first and then... “I hope so,” he says eventually. “I really hope so, Ruth.”

His mobile rings, and he has to move to find his jacket. She moves back to her seat and gets dressed as he answers the call. “Yes... Good... I'll be there in two hours... No... I will,” she hears him say.

He disconnects the call and turns to her, but before he can speak, she says, “I know. You have to go.”

He nods sadly, and removing the condom, he ties the end into a knot and pulls up his underwear and trousers.

“Here,” she says and hands him a tissue.

He thanks her and wraps the condom inside it before placing it in his pocket. She can't bare the awkwardness that has cropped up between them all of a sudden, so she reaches over and helps him button his shirt. “Thank you,” he says as soon as she's finished and pulls her to him for a kiss.

They both find their desire rekindle as they explore each other's months thoroughly, as if trying to commit the contours to memory. They pull apart reluctantly, and after adjusting their seats and putting on their seat belts, Ruth starts the engine. She drives carefully though town until they reach his hotel. She parks in the parking lot and they look at each other. Despite the fact that she looks sad, her eyes sparkle at him in adoration, and he silently promises himself that he will do his best to return to her again soon. He wants this to be so much more than a one-night-stand.

“Goodbye, Harry,” she says quietly and squeezes his knee.

“Goodbye, Ruth,” he murmurs, and leaning toward her, he kisses her briefly on the lips. Then, getting out of the car, he walks away and doesn't look back.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

_5_ _th_ _May 1991_

_Berkshire_

 

He's in a cold, concrete room lying on the floor. His head is pounding and he can barely breathe. He knows he has some cracked ribs and a fractured wrist. He aches almost everywhere. His throat is dry and he swallows repeatedly in an effort to moisten it. He opens his eyes slowly, but can see very little through the swelling around them so he lets them slide shut again. He's lost track of time since he was taken, but there is one thing that keeps him going... Ruth. He doesn't know when she became the reason behind his will to live. All he knows is that, when he gets out of here, he's going to find her.

The door creaks open once again, and he wills himself to be silent and still. He has a very strong will. A booted foot makes sharp contact with his abdomen, and he cries out in pain.

“Who are you?” the man asks for the millionth time it seems. “Who do you work for?”

Harry bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from giving the game away, and he forces his mind to focus on Ruth, the feel of her skin beneath his lips, the sweet smell of her hair, the exotic taste of her sex.

“Tell me!” the voice demands.

Another kick in the ribs distracts him momentarily, but he manages to return his attention to her, what he will do to her when they meet again and he has her in a bed, not a car this time, but a king size bed. The final kick lands on his balls, and he screams and passes out.

 

 

_15 th May 1991_

_London_

 

He comes to and finds that he's warm. After the bone shattering cold of the last – days? weeks? - it is a welcome relief. Steeling himself, he slowly opens his eyes, dreading what he might see. A white ceiling with large fluorescent lamps greets his gaze. It seems that his field of vision is also a little better. He listens. There is a repetitive beeping noise near him, and in the background, he hears the hustle and bustle of many voices and feet. He's been here many times before. He's in hospital. He closes his eyes in relief.

 

 

_17 th May 1991_

_London_

 

He opens his eyes and sees a face. He blinks but it remains blurry. He's sure it's a woman with dark brown hair. “Ruth?” he asks in a gravelly voice.

“Hello, Love,” the nurse replies. “Glad to have you back. You gave us a real scare.”

His throat is dry. “Water,” he says hoarsely.

“Right you are, Love,” the nurse replies, and filling a cup, she brings it over to him.

She presses some buttons on a remote control and his bed tilts up a fraction. She helps him take a sip. Then he lies back down and closes his eyes.

 

 

_19 th May 1991,_

_London_

 

He wakes up and sees a nurse in the room. “Hello,” he says a little hoarsely.

“Hello,” she replies. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I've been hit by a bus,” he replies. She laughs and he asks, “What day is it?”

“It's Sunday, the nineteenth of May,” she answers, knowing it's the date he's really interested in.

He swallows as he realises that he's been out for three weeks. “What's the extent of my injuries?” he asks next.

“I'll have the doctor come in and explain them. All right?” she smiles and leaves the room.

Thirty minutes later Dr. Rogers enters his room, rescuing him from the horrors of daytime television.

“Mr. Pearce,” he says, “I'm glad to see you alert.” Harry nods and he continues, “When you were brought in, you were suffering from five broken ribs, cuts and abrasions on your face, arms, and hands, your nose was broken, and your right wrist fractured. You were also unconscious. Considering the number of beatings you were likely subjected to, you're lucky to have gotten away without any internal bleeding. There was extensive bruising throughout your body, but particularly on your forearms, face, abdomen, shins, and scrotum. All your bones were set and we had to induce a coma to give your body a chance to heal. Do you have any questions?”

“The bruising... on my ...um,” Harry asks uncomfortably.

“Scrotum,” Dr. Rogers provides helpfully. “Luckily, there appears to be no serious damage to your testes. The bruising will subside with time, but you will find it uncomfortable to sit and move about for a few days. I suggest you use briefs for a little while to provide some extra support.”

“Right,” Harry says in relief. Then he changes the subject. “When can I go home?”

“I'll examine you now with your permission,” Dr. Peters replies, “and then I'll have a better idea.”

“Okay,” Harry answers, and the doctor proceeds with the examination, which is slightly more embarrassing than usual given the location of some of the damage.


	3. Chapter 3

_20 th May 1991_

_London_

 

“Harry,” Malcolm says and offers him a sandwich. “I'm so glad you're doing better.”

“Thanks, Malcolm,” Harry replies and begins to devour the sandwich adding, “This is so good. You're a life saver in more ways than one. Thank you. I don't think I can bare the sludge that passes for food in this place any longer.”

“When are they letting you go?” Malcolm asks.

“I've told them I'm checking myself out tomorrow,” Harry says determinedly, and at Malcolm's startled look, he elaborates, “We had a disagreement. The doctor seems to think I need another week in bed, and I think that I should get out of here today. Eventually, we reached a compromise."”

“That's good,” Malcolm replies rather lamely. Then leaning closer to him he whispers, “I know we can't talk shop here, but I think you should know that we got all the bastards who did this to you.”

“That's good,” Harry smiles. “Behind bars or in hell?”

“I didn't take you for a religious man, Harry!” Malcolm teases in mock surprise and then turning serious he adds, “Three of the smaller fish are in the tank and the others went belly up.”

Harry grins and claps him on the shoulder, saying, “Good man.”

 

 

_26 th May 1991_

_London_

 

Harry sits in his arm chair, leaning back with his eyes closed. His head pounds and his whole body aches. He's had quite a week. After discharging himself from hospital, he'd gone back to the Grid, where he'd discovered that they hadn't got all the members of the Revolution for a Better Britain. The most senior member and a couple of others had escaped. Harry was able to relay some information that he had acquired while he was captive that allowed them to capture the last two members of the cell this morning, hours before they carried out their attack on a YMCA in Bristol. The leader of the group, Jacob Miller, had been shot dead at the scene.

They had grossly underestimated this group. He'd been captured because they'd been careless. After bugging the suspect, Colin Whittaker, in Oxford, they'd been able to locate the RBB's meeting place. Unfortunately, Miller had been in the army and had a background in electronic engineering. He'd found the bugs, but rather than get rid of them, he'd jammed the audio feed. MI-5 had assumed that the bug had stopped working as there was no indication that it had been found and destroyed. That mistake had nearly cost Harry his life. They were still able to follow Whittaker through the tracking device and so Harry and Ben, one of the junior field officers, had walked straight into a trap. Harry had put up enough of a struggle to allow Ben enough time to escape, but when he'd returned with back up, Harry and the RBB were long gone. If it hadn't been for his brilliant team and Malcolm's genius, Harry would be dead. Malcolm cross referenced the active mobile phones in the cell where the RBB meetings took place with the time of each meeting and bugged them all. It was a highly illegal move, but in the end, it had paid off as they were able to find Harry in time.

And now, Mark Nichols, Head of Section D, had insisted that he take a week off duty to recover. When Harry had began to protest, he'd been threatened with TRING, so he'd accepted defeat and headed home.

He's tempted to pour himself a stiff drink, but deep down he knows that not only will it not help, but it will make him feel worse in the long run. So he forces himself to go upstairs, and stripping until he's naked, he crawls into bed. Despite his exhaustion he can't sleep at first. He thinks of Ruth and slowly drifts into an uneasy sleep.

He wakes up yelling, and for a second, he thinks he's back there on the cold concrete floor. Feeling the smooth, cotton sheets below him, his panic subsides and he reaches to switch on the bedside lamp. His covers are on the floor so he painfully reaches down to pick them up, swearing with frustration at his own weakness. He lies back and stares at the ceiling. Jacob Miller's face drifts to the front of his mind, and he clenches his jaw and fists in anger. He knows that the beatings he'd received were very carefully conducted to cause no serious damage but a lot of pain. He also knows that, when they failed to break him, Miller had lost patience with him, and his team had arrived just in time to prevent a very serious beating that would certainly have resulted in a most excruciating death. If Ben hadn't already shot the bastard, Harry was sure he'd go after him and kill him without any hesitation or remorse.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

_3 rd June 1991_

_London_

 

He's back at work and his injuries are finally sufficiently healed to allow him to move without pain, provided he moves slowly. His right hand is still in a cast which makes it difficult to do anything, from showering and shaving in the morning to using his computer. Sighing he rubs his forehead and winces slightly. His face is still a mess. The break in his nose doesn't really show much, but the rest of his face is a patchwork of mottled brown-yellow marks that make him look like he's just walked off the set of a horror film.

“I'm off,” Malcolm says as he walks past. “Good night, Harry.”

Harry looks up briefly and nods, “Good night, Malcolm.”

He's the last one on the Grid today. He waits for the pods to swing shut before turning to his computer and beginning his search for Ruth. He's been waiting all week to get back to work so he can find her. One hour later, he has the information he needs. Her name's Ruth Evershed, she's graduated with a first in Classics, but the graduation ceremony isn't until Sunday. So there's a good chance that she's still in Oxford. By the end of the week, his face should have lost its alarming appearance. He'll travel down there on Saturday, he decides, and smiling for the first time in two weeks, he shuts down his computer and heads home.

 

 

_8 th June 1991_

_Oxford_

 

He's walking through the centre of Oxford enjoying the sun on his face. It's a beautiful summer's day and he feels exited, the familiar rush of adrenaline surging through him. The streets are full of people, some rushing about their business, others ambling through the streets chatting with their friends. The crowd movers in irregular patterns as he approaches the traffic light to cross the street. He looks across scanning the crowd out of habit, looking for any unusual movement, anything out of place. The crowd parts and he sees her.

She's wearing a light blue summer dress that swirls around her knees in the slight breeze. Her arms are bare and her hair is loose. He stares at her for a few moments, rooted to the spot by the unexpected pleasure of seeing her like this. She's looking at something and a smile spreads across her face. No, not something, someone. A tall young man approaches her, and she laughs before throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him to her. The man smiles into her hair and kisses the top of her head lovingly. Harry's heart shatters. He watches for a few moments as the couple part and she links her hand though his arm, laughing at something he says. And then, as if sensing his eyes on her, she turns her head toward him and he whips round, away from her, and disappears into the crowd.

She starts as she sees the man across the street. She lets go of her companion's arm and doesn't even register him calling her name as she rushes over to the spot where she saw him... Harry... She spins around looking in all directions, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but he's too good at his job; he's disappeared.

“What's the matter?” her companion asks with concern.

“Nothing,” she replies with a sigh. “I just thought I saw someone I know.”

He smiles at her and offers her his arm.

“Which decade do you live in, Matt? Offering a girl your arm like that,” she teases.

He laughs and replies, “Come on, you've got to show me around.”

“All right,” she smiles. “I can't believe you're here.” She beams up at him and takes him on a tour of Oxford.

 

* * *

 

Harry gets back to his hotel, and though he feels like going straight to the bar, he forces himself to check out. He berates himself for thinking that a young girl like her wouldn't have moved on. To her he was a one-night-stand, and no matter how much it hurts him, he cannot blame her. He's almost seventeen years her senior after all. He could easily have been her father! And yet it hurts. It hurts so much that he can't breathe. He unbuttons another button on his shirt and grips the counter in front of him so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

“Are you okay, Sir?” the clerk asks.

“Fine,” he replies, schooling his face and voice into an expressionless mask. “I'm just in a hurry.”

“Yes, of course,” the man nods as he turns back to the credit card he's holding.

Harry signs the slip, and thanking the clerk, takes his bag and gets into his car. He leans back against the seat and closes his eyes for a moment, gripping the steering wheel and taking deep breaths. He knows what the problem is. He's let himself become attached to the idea of Ruth too much. It's his imprisonment and torture that are the cause of this obsession. Under normal circumstances, he tells himself, he wouldn't have let himself fall so completely for her. He needs to get a grip. With grim determination and a lot of effort, he puts the feelings and shattered hopes of Harry Pearce in their compartment and shuts them away in a corner of his mind. Being a good spook is all about control. Self-control and self-denial. And if nothing else, Harry's a good spy. Opening his eyes, he backs the car out of the parking spot and drives home.

He throws himself into work, always being the first to arrive and last to leave. He meets women in bars occasionally and has a few one-night-stands, but they pale by comparison to Ruth and the time he spent with her. So eventually he stops and concentrates on work. In three years, he becomes the head of Section D.


	5. Chapter 5

_17 th September 1996_

_Cheltenham_

 

Ruth removes her earphones and gets up to get some more tea. She sighs. She's been working at GCHQ for five years now and she's sick of it. She wants to do more than sit and listen to conversations and analyse their importance before passing the information on to the police, Five or Six. The work's so limiting, repetitive, and well, easy. She longs for something more challenging that will require all of her skills and knowledge to be used on a regular basis and will still help people and save lives.

She returns to her desk and checks her email. There's one new message, and when she opens it, she's surprised to find that it's about a position for an analyst opening up at Five's Counter Terrorism Unit. It's as if someone's read her mind, she thinks. This is it, the opportunity she's been waiting for.

 

 

_1 st October 1996_

_London_

 

Harry stares at the file on his desk. His initial surprise is closely followed by pain and regret strong enough to leave him breathless. A shadow crosses his face briefly, but seconds later he's back in control. That's the trouble with locking away emotions. You never really work through them, he thinks.

“So what do you think?” Tom asks.

Harry clears his throat and says, “This is the only candidate?”

“No,” Tom replies, “but she's the best by a mile. I interviewed the top three as you asked, and I think she'd be the best addition to our team.”

Harry nods and continues to stare at the picture of his new analyst. Memories of the last time he saw her float to the front of his mind unbidden. He pushes them aside quickly.

“Harry?” Tom says, his voice puzzled. “Is there a problem?”

“What?” Harry replies absently and finally looks up. “No, no. It's fine.”

“Okay,” Tom says. “I was going to have her start on Monday.”

“Good,” Harry replies looking down at the folder once more.

Tom frowns and leaves the room, puzzled by his boss's distracted air. He walks back to his desk where he picks up the phone and calls Ruth.

“Hello?” Ruth answers her mobile, grateful for the excuse to stop working for a moment.

“Hi, Ruth,” Tom says. “It's Tom Quinn, from Section D.”

“Hi, Tom,” Ruth replies and holds her breath in apprehension.

“I was just calling to let you know that you have the job,” Tom continues. “You can start Monday. I'll clear it with GCHQ.”

“Oh, Tom,” Ruth beams. “Thank you.”

“It will be a pleasure to work with you, Ruth,” Tom smiles. “I'll meet you at the security desk in Thames House, shall we say at eight on Monday?”

“Yes, that's fine,” Ruth replies.

Then a thought occurs to him and he adds, “Listen. We usually go for a drink on Friday night after work at the George around eight, unless we have to pull an all-nighter. You're welcome to join us and meet some of the team.”

“Thank you, Tom,” Ruth smiles. “I'll see if I can make it.”

“Good,” Tom replies. “I hope to see you there. Bye, Ruth.”

“Bye,” Ruth says and ends the call.

Then taking a deep breath, she takes herself off to the ladies' where she does a little victory dance before returning to her station and back to work.


	6. Chapter 6

 

_4 th October 1996_

_London_

 

Ruth stands outside the George. She's not quite sure how she came to be here, because until about an hour ago, she was sure she wasn't coming. She hasn't had any time to relax lately, so maybe that's why she's here. She's spent the last week finishing up her work at GCHQ during the day and packing up her things at night. She needs to give a month's notice on her house in Cheltenham, so she's left her furniture and books there, and filling her car up with essentials, she drove down to London tonight. Tom very kindly arranged for a safe house to be given to her for a month so that she can have time to find somewhere to live. Ruth was a little surprised by this, but Tom explained that, since they've had her transferred so quickly, it's only fair that they give her time to find accommodation. As soon as she arrived at the house this evening, she walked thought the door and realised that she couldn't face unpacking anything. She's had enough of boxes to last her several weeks and she's exhausted. Needing a break and some fresh air, she just unloaded her car, dumping all the boxes in her living room and her suitcases in the bedroom, and turning around, walked back out into the chilly night air. After walking for a little while, she found herself catching the bus to Thames House. She admired the building from the outside and walked past it down to the Thames, and from there, found her way here.

Ruth takes a deep breath, walks into the pub, and looks around. It's busy, and feeling a little awkward, she glances around at the unfamiliar faces. She walks up to the bar and orders half a pint of cider. She looks around once more as she waits for the barman to serve her, but she still can't see anyone she knows. It's not surprising really, she thinks, since the only person she's met from Section D is Tom. She's beginning to regret her decision to come here tonight when the barman places her drink in front of her.

She pays for it, and as he's about to move away, she asks, “Are any of the people from the Department of Environment, Food, and Rural Affairs here today?”

“That's them, near the back,” he replies, pointing toward the fire exit.

“Thanks,” she smiles, and picking up her drink, she moves toward the group.

They look up when she comes close, and Tom jumps up and extends his hand toward her saying, “Ruth! You made it.”

“Hi, Tom,” she smiles timidly and shakes his hand.

“Everyone, this is Ruth,” he says to the group and then goes round and names everyone. “Danny, Ben, Malcolm, and Sally.”

“Hi,” Ruth murmurs and there's a chorus of hellos in reply.

“May I take your coat?” Tom asks, and he proceeds to help her remove it, hang it up, and find a seat.

The conversation is a little awkward at first, but soon it flows a little easier. Ruth finds herself sitting near Sally and Tom. The former is very open, chatting about this and that, which makes Ruth feel more comfortable. She learns that Malcolm is the techie of the team, Ben is the Section Chief and senior field agent, Danny and Tom are also field agents, as is Sally herself. A lot of field agents, she thinks. No wonder they're looking for an analyst.

“Another drink?” Tom asks presently and then adds, “Ben, it's your round, isn't it?”

“No,” Ben replies. “I got the last one.”

“It's mine,” Danny interjects.

“I'll help you carry the drinks,” Tom says and gets up.

Harry approaches the group unobserved, and as Tom moves to stand up, he spots Ruth sitting next to him. He freezes and his breathing quickens as his pulse rate shoots up. He lets his gaze roam over her, taking in the changes that have taken place over the past five years. She's even more beautiful now than she was when he met her, and though her figure is hidden below her loose top and long skirt, his memory and imagination make up for this with a speed that surprises him. The strength of his desire and longing unnerve him, and he swiftly decides that this is not the best time to make an appearance.

Just as he's about to turn and make a quick exit, Tom spots him and calls out, “Harry, it's good of you to join us.”

He swears under his breath and reluctantly takes a step forward. He looks at Ruth and as she turns to face him her clear, blue-grey eyes meet his guarded, brown ones. He watches as recognition, followed by incredulity, and then confusion cross her face. For a split second, Harry's convinced that he sees her eyes sparkle with pleasure at the sight of him, but it's gone so quickly to be replaced by wariness, that he's sure he's imagined it.

Tom turns to her and says, “Ruth, this is Harry Pearce, our head of section,” and then noticing her pallor, he adds with concern, “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she answers, glancing at him briefly. “I'm fine.” She's surprised to find that her voice is steady. Then turning to Harry she says, “I'm pleased to meet you, Sir.”

She doesn't quite make eye contact, but even so, he cannot help but be impressed that she's recovered so quickly, and smiling he says, “Harry. Call me Harry. Welcome to the team.” His eyes linger on her for a moment longer, and then he turns to Tom, and wanting to distract everyone, he adds, “I'll buy this round.”

He heads to the bar with Tom and leaves a group of happy people behind him with the exception of one. Ruth works hard to not show how unhappy, hurt, and confused she really is, and as nobody knows her well yet, she pulls it off. Harry wisely stays away from her, but he cannot help glancing at her often. Her eyes sparkle momentarily as she laughs at a joke Tom makes, and he feels his gut clench as the memory of her sparkling eyes gazing at him in adoration swims to the front of his mind. He looks down at his drink, sure that, for a split second, his eyes betray his emotions. He clamps down on his feelings quickly and locks them away again.

Ruth, for her part, studiously avoids his gaze, but as she doesn't meet anyone else's very often, nobody finds this odd. At about half-past ten, Sally says she's got to go and Ruth jumps at the chance of leaving early with her. They all say good night and she breathes a sigh of relief when she finds herself outside again.

Once at home she gets ready for bed, gets in, and pulls the covers close. In the pub, it took her all of three seconds to figure out that Harry was on an operation when she'd met him and that he'd been pretending to be drunk. She remembers thinking at the time that he was less drunk than he let on, but she'd conveniently forgotten it later when she'd offered to drive him to his hotel. Silently she berates herself as she realises that, to Harry, she was just a convenient shag. She's probably one of many victims of his charm and mesmerizing hazel eyes. She knows that she was the one who practically begged him for sex, and she sheds some tears out of anger and humiliation. She analyses the whole situation she now finds herself in for a good half hour, and in the end, she decides that she's not going to let an experience from more than five years ago affect her chances to enjoy her new job, a job that she's wanted so badly for so long. Judging from tonight, it doesn't appear that Harry's going to cause any problems for her on that score, so she resolves to put it behind her and pretend it didn't happen. Satisfied with her decision, she closes her eyes and quickly falls asleep.

Harry finds it hard to sleep that night. The sight of Ruth has brought back all the memories, dreams, and hopes he'd entertained more than five years ago. With dismay, he finds that he still wants her as much as he had on that fateful night in Oxford. He knows that it's impossible to act on these desires, not only because of the hurt he's caused her and the age difference between them, but because she's now under his command. Despite his best efforts, his mind keeps drifting back to that night in Maggie's car, and after struggling for an hour, he eventually succumbs to his desire, and grabbing a wad of tissues from the bedside table, he wanks himself off and falls into a restless sleep.

 


	7. Chapter 7

_7 th March 1997_

_London_

 

His door opens and Ruth walks into the room.

“Knock, knock,” he grumbles before putting down the document he's holding and looking at her.

“Who's there?” she answers with a mischievous smile.

He chuckles and holds her gaze briefly before she looks down, and opening the folder she's holding, proceeds to explain the latest intel she's collected. He listens intently, asking for clarification on a couple of points before nodding and saying, “Good. Thank you, Ruth.”

She smiles her impish smile and her eyes sparkle at him. Then she turns and leaves his office. He watches her as she crosses the grid to her desk and sits down in front of her computer. Over the past few months, Ruth has become an integral part of his team, and he's come to rely heavily on her analysis and opinion. In fact, he's not quite sure how he managed without her. Out of all the members of his team, she's the only one who can get away with questioning his judgement and often succeeds in changing his mind. He knows that he has a soft spot for her, but it goes beyond that. She has the surest moral code of any of them, and he relies on it implicitly as if she's a human compass. But beyond their professional relationship, there has been no move toward a personal one from either of them.

Despite the fact that the love he feels for her has grown exponentially both in depth and intensity, he cannot risk doing anything that might upset the balance of their professional life, and the possibility of losing her completely, keeps him from making any move toward her. He's so happy to have her sparkling eyes look at him with admiration and respect that he can live without the rest.

Ruth glances up at Harry's office and sees him turn his eyes away hurriedly. She smiles and turns back to her screen. She feels really happy here in Section D. Her job is fulfilling and she knows that she's good at it. She's come to respect and admire Harry very much over the last few months, and she no longer resents him for the one-night-stand they shared. If anything, she's grateful for the opportunity she had to know him in that way.

Despite her initial efforts to forget him, she finds that she's more in love with him than ever. It doesn't help that none of the experiences she's had since their time together in Oxford have been anywhere near as beautiful, intense, or satisfying. So he's become the standard by which she measures every other man she meets. She knows, however, that a relationship with her boss is virtually impossible even if she believed that he returned her feelings. It's obvious to her that he finds her attractive and admires her intellect and analytical abilities, but she hasn't detected any symptoms of love. So she holds onto the memory of that night in Oxford and enjoys the close professional relationship they share, respecting and relying on each other.

 

 

_11 th April 1997_

_London_

 

“Off out are we, Ruth?” Danny asks as he sees her checking her reflection in her hand-held mirror.

“Yes,” she smiles.

“Who is he?” Sally asks intrigued.

“Just a friend,” she replies. “My oldest friend actually. We lived next door to each other when we were kids.”

“Going to the George everyone?” Tom asks as he walks back to this desk.

“Ruth has a date,” Sally informs him.

“That is not what I said,” Ruth reproaches her with a frown.

“Well, you're welcome to bring him along too then,” Sally answers smugly. “ _If_ it's not a date.”

“All right,” Ruth smiles. “I might.” Then picking up her bag, she leaves the Grid.

 

* * *

 

“My round,” Malcolm says and gets up.

“I'll help,” Danny offers, and then spotting Ruth, he adds, “Looks like we'll need another two drinks, Malcolm.”

“Ruth!” Sally exclaims. “You made it.”

“Yes, I did,” Ruth smiles. “Everyone this is Matt, my oldest friend.”

“Now just a minute, Ruthie, who do you think you're calling old?” Matt says in a hurt voice.

Everyone laughs and Ruth punches him on the arm playfully and says, “Cheeky! Matt, these are my colleagues and friends: Danny, Malcolm, Ben, Tom, Sally and Zoe.”

“And here comes Harry,” Zoe adds as Harry appears from the direction of the loos.

“Harry, this is Ruth's oldest friend, Matt,” Ben explains.

Harry nods at Matt, his face a mask of politeness despite the dread, sadness, and pain that settles over his heart at the sight of him. He recognises him, of course, as the tall young man he saw with Ruth in Oxford.

“What are you having?” Danny asks. “Malcolm's buying.”

“Thanks, Malcolm,” Ruth smiles and adds, “Matt'll have a pint of bitter and I'll have half a cider.”

“You're ordering his drinks now?” Sally exclaims. “And you still claim you're not dating?”

“We're not,” Ruth replies. “We're just good friends.”

“We lived next door to each other in Exeter when we were kids,” Matt explains, “until Ruth got sent to boarding school. Then we wrote to each other and had a great time during the school hols when Ruth was home.”

“Then Matt went to Edinburgh and I went to Oxford,” Ruth continues the story. “So we didn't see each other for ages.”

“I still don't believe you,” Sally says stubbornly. “When was the last time you saw each other?”

“Um... let me see,” Matt murmurs. “I think it was when I went to Oxford for Ruth's graduation.”

Harry inhales his drink and starts coughing furiously. He's been sitting quietly in the corner listening to the conversation with great interest, unsure of whether he wants to hear it or not, dreading that at any moment Matt will be revealed as Ruth's boyfriend.

Now, everyone turns to look at him and Zoe asks, “You all right, Harry?”

It takes him a few moments before he can get his breath back and wheeze, “Fine. I'm fine,” as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.

Everyone loses interest as Danny and Malcolm return with the drinks except for Ruth who is staring at him, her face as white as a sheet. She's just remembered that it was the day before her graduation that she'd thought she'd seen Harry in the street, moments after she'd met Matt. Was it possible that Harry had seen them? That he'd got the wrong idea like everyone else seems to? That he'd come to see her and had found her with another man? Was that why he'd choked on his drink just now? But if that was the case...If that was the case, it would mean that he _did_ care about her, and she'd meant much more to him than she'd ever realised.

“Ruth, are you okay?” Matt asks and touches her shoulder lightly.

“Mmm... what?” Ruth says distractedly, blinking and turning to look at him.

“You seem a little pale,” Matt replies.

“Oh,” Ruth murmurs. “I'm fine. It's probably just the light.”

The conversation picks up again, and Ruth and Harry join in, in an effort to appear like their normal selves. They find it difficult, however, to keep their eyes averted, and moments later, they're staring at each other, their hearts hammering loudly in their chests. Luckily no one notices. It's the first time she's stared at him like that since she's started work at MI-5. He can see a warmth in her eyes that wasn't there before, and there's something else too, something he can't quite put his finger on. Does she know? Has she realised why he was in Oxford that day? God, he's been such an idiot. Why didn't he _talk_ to her? Would she have been pleased to see him? Suddenly he realises that it's hope. He can see hope shining in her eyes. His breathing becomes shallow and his mouth is dry. He's lost control over his emotions and desire radiates from his expressive eyes. He devours her with them, but she doesn't look away. She holds his gaze and blushes slightly, but then Matt claims her attention, and the moment is broken.

Harry looks down at his drink and fights for control. He's usually very good at hiding his feelings under a mask of calm control, but tonight he's failing miserably. Anger at himself and desire for Ruth vie for dominance inside him as he struggles to suppress both. He shifts uncomfortably, grateful for the table before him hiding the evidence of his desire. He loosens his tie and unbuttons the top button of his shirt.

“You sure you're all right, Harry?” Zoe asks with concern.

“Mmmm,” he murmurs, and pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment, he adds, “Fine. I'm fine.”

“You don't look it,” Zoe insists. “Your face is flushed.”

“I'm fine,” he snaps, and downing his whisky, he gets up, and strategically holding his coat in front of him, he says goodnight. Then turning toward the exit, he slips into his coat, and buttoning it quickly, leaves the pub.

“What's the matter with Harry?” Danny asks.

Zoe shrugs. Ruth watches him go with regret and disappointment. Then with a small sigh, she turns her attention back to Matt, determined to enjoy her time with him.

 

* * *

 

“Come in for a coffee,” Ruth says.

“Okay,” he smiles, “but only if you've really got coffee.”

“No, sorry,” she grins, “but I have tea.”

Matt sighs and nods with a long suffering air. Ruth laughs and leads the way into her flat.

A little while later, they're both sitting at the kitchen table sipping their tea. Ruth's thoughts drift back to Harry and she frowns unconsciously.

“All right,” Matt sighs, “Tell me what's on your mind.”

“Nothing,” Ruth replies quickly.

“You need to work on your poker face, Ruth,” he says. “I can tell that was a lie. What is it? Work? A relationship?”

She shrugs and shakes her head.

“Let me guess then,” Matt smiles mischievously and looks at her intently.

She keeps her face straight and stares back at him. Matt's always been impressed by her ability to hold a straight face, and when they were kids, he used to enjoy trying to get her to react in some way. He rarely succeeded.

“Harry,” he murmurs quietly and her eyes widen in surprise. “I'm right!” he exclaims with delight.

“How?” she asks simply, too taken aback to deny it.

“You couldn't keep your eyes off each other tonight,” he says as he leans back in his chair with a smug look.

“That's not...” Ruth begins, and then covering her face with her hands says, “Oh, God. Do you think anyone else noticed?”

“Maybe,” he shrugs. “They are spooks after all. They're supposed to notice things. I did intervene when I saw him practically undressing you with his eyes! So what's the story?”

Ruth sighs and tells him, starting at the beginning and finishing with tonight.

Matt listens, and when she's done, he states, “You love him.”

“Yes,” she breathes.

“Than you have to find a way to make it work, Ruth,” he smiles and takes her hands in his. “You've loved him for six years now. You have to at least try.”

“But he's my boss! What will people think? And what if it doesn't work you?” she sighs. “I'll have to leave my job and I love it.”

“Ruth,” he replies reassuringly. “You said yourself that you know he values you greatly as an analyst. He won't jeopardise your working relationship if he has no feelings for you, and if he loves you, then it _will_ work out. You work well together professionally, so you'll work well together in a relationship too. Give it a chance, Ruth, and if you're happy, who cares what people think!”

She nods and murmurs, “I'll think about it. Thanks, Matt.”

“Any time,” he smiles. “I'd better head home. We'll see each other soon, yes?”

“Now that you've moved to London,” she says, “you're going to have trouble avoiding me.”

He chuckles, and kissing her goodnight, leaves to go home.

 


	8. Chapter 8

_12 th April 1997_

_London_

 

Ruth can't stop thinking about the events of last night, and on the bus to work, she decides that she needs to speak to Harry about what happened between them in Oxford. When she thought him indifferent to her, she was content with how things stood between them. Now, however, she can't bear the uncertainty of not knowing what his feelings are one way, or the other. What troubles her is how to go about beginning such a conversation. She can hardly just walk into his office and demand that he explain himself. She's got to find the right moment and the right place, away from prying eyes and CCTV... a rather tall order.

She enters through the pods and walks to her desk. Glancing into Harry's office, she notes that he's not there. Perhaps his meeting with the DG is taking longer than expected. She sits herself down and begins to compile the threat assessment for the morning briefing. She finishes just in time for the meeting, and as she gets up to get some tea before it starts, she hears the pods slide open. She looks up and sees Harry walk onto the Grid. Their eyes meet momentarily and she feels her pulse quicken. There's something different about the way he's looking at her, but before she can figure out what it is, the moment passes, and he turns away, striding off to his office.

Harry enters his office, walks to his desk, and sits down. His meeting with the DG was extremely frustrating, but it's the searching look Ruth gave him just now that troubles him more than anything else. He knows they have to talk, but despite the hope that has sprung up inside him after last night, there's still a nagging doubt about Ruth's feelings for him that is gnawing away at his insides. He has no time to think about it now, he realises as he glances at the clock. Sighing heavily he gets up, and walking out of his office, barks, “Meeting room. Now!”

Everyone scurries into the room, not wanting to risk his displeasure, and finds a seat. Ruth looks at Harry, and he nods his permission for her to begin.

“GCHQ has picked up some activity from a group calling themselves the Revolution for a Better Britain,” Ruth says and then pauses as she sees Ben and Malcolm's gazes snap from the screen to Harry. “What?” she asks, suddenly annoyed that she had no time to look into this information further before this meeting.

Harry's gaze remains on the screen, but his jaw clenches and his hands grip the table tightly. Then without a word, he gets up and stalks out of the room. Ruth looks at Ben quizzically.

Ben sighs and explains, “Five years ago, Harry was captured by these lunatics. He was held for six days and beaten up pretty badly.” He pauses and frowns before he adds, “We were lucky to find him alive.”

Silence descends over the group as they digest this information.

“Right,” Ben continues after a moment. “Malcolm, I want you and Ruth to dig up any information we have on them. Look at the files from five years ago and any new information you can find. We thought we'd got all the ring leaders, so we obviously missed someone. The rest of you need to find a way of penetrating their organization. Okay? Good. Malcolm, we're also going to need some cutting edge technology for tracking and bugging them. Last time they found the bug Harry planted on one of them. These people don't mess around. We need to be very careful.” He gets up and leaves the room followed by everyone else.

Ruth catches up to Malcolm and asks, “Which case file am I looking for?”

“Operation Glass House,” he replies. “Happened in April of 1991 in Oxford and Reading.”

Ruth stops walking. April of '91 in Oxford... That must have been what Harry was working on when she'd met him... and then after they'd said goodbye he'd been captured, beaten, and almost killed. Her gut clenches at the thought of Harry in danger.

It takes Malcolm a moment to notice she's not next to him. He turns round, and looking at her with concern, he asks, “Ruth, are you all right?”

She blinks, and realising that Malcolm's talking to her, she says, “Sorry, what?”

“Are you okay?” Malcolm repeats.

“Yes, fine,” she says and leaves to go to the registry.

Malcolm shakes his head and returns to his terminal.

 

* * *

 

“It's the brother,” Ruth informs everyone. “Roland Miller was part of the organization at the beginning but left after falling out with his older brother, Jacob. When Jacob was killed, it seems he had a change of heart and began recruiting new members.”

“Preliminary CCTV surveillance indicates that Roland Miller has been frequenting a new location in Reading,” Malcolm takes over the briefing. “So far we've identified two other individuals who also turn up at the same location at the same time. One of them is Joshua Rivers, a former soldier who served with Jacob Miller.”

“It's possible that these are the only people involved,” Ruth continues, “but we can't be sure of this. Despite the fact that Roland doesn't appear to have the same expertise as his brother, he has managed to recruit at least one man experienced in combat. It would be wise to proceed with caution.”

She glances at Harry, but his eyes are boring into the picture of Roland Miller on the screen.

“Good work, Ruth, Malcolm,” Ben says. “I'm going in undercover as a disgruntled worker who's lost his job to immigrants.”

“No,” Harry interrupts firmly. “You're _not_ going in there alone.”

“But, Harry,” Ben insists, “we need a man on the inside to figure out who's involved and what they're planning. If we bring them in now, we'll risk sending the rest underground. We need to finish it this time.”

Everyone is silent as Ben and Harry's gazes clash across the table. It's obvious to Ruth that both men's reactions are affected by the trauma of Operation Glass House. She can imagine the guilt Ben feels over leaving Harry behind when he was captured, and Harry knows first hand what these men are capable of and just wants to protect his team.

“Perhaps we could sent Tom and Ben in together,” she offers quietly, “and have a surveillance van outside with Danny and Sally.”

A few seconds pass before Harry nods and says, “Okay. Do it, but I want CO-19 on standby, and if there is _any_ doubt that your covers are intact, I want you out of there faster than you can say Armageddon.”

“Okay,” Sam agrees and flashes Ruth a gratefully smile. “Let's get ready then.”

Everyone nods and begins to file out of the room. Only Harry remains seated, running his hands over his face briefly.

“It'll be okay, Harry,” Ruth murmurs as she stands across the table from him, holding her notes tightly to her chest.

He lets her comforting words wash over him and looks up at her. Her eyes are full of concern and he feels his stomach flip. He smiles reassuringly and murmurs, “Thanks.” Then he gets up and adds, “We just need to be careful,” before walking round the table to the door.

“I know,” she nods. “I read the report.”

He pauses at the door for a few seconds with his back toward her. Then he clears his throat before saying, “Malcolm will need your help, Ruth,” and with that, he leaves the room and walks back to his office.

Feeling slightly discouraged and hurt by his dismissal, Ruth sets off to find Malcolm.


	9. Chapter 9

_15 th April 1997_

_Reading_

 

“What's the plan?” Ben asks.

“You'll find out when you need to,” Roland replies in a harsh voice.

“Hey, listen, Mate,” Ben answers back. “I'd like to know what I'm going to risk my life for, all right? At least tell us what the target is.”

Tom punches him in the stomach and hisses, “That's for being a smart ass. You heard the man. He'll tell us when we need to know.”

Ben grunts in pain, and back at Thames House, Zoe and Malcolm wince despite the fact that it's all part of the show Tom and Ben are putting on for Roland. Their plan has been for Ben to be a little standoffish with Roland and for Tom to try to gain his trust. So far it's been working like a charm. Only Joshua Rivers is trusted more than Tom. His intense dedication to the cause has earned him many brownie points with Miller.

Roland nods with approval and says, “I want to make it perfectly clear that I will _not_ tolerate any insubordination. You'll all be told the details of this operation when it's necessary and not a moment before. You all stay here tonight and no one leaves the house for any reason. Turn off your mobiles and give them to me.”

The four men, including Ben and Tom, step forward and put their phones on the table.

“What about Josh?” Martin, a well built young man, asks suddenly.

“He's taking care of something else,” Roland smirks.

“Another attack?” Tom grins and looks at him with admiration.

“Yes,” Roland laughs with arrogant pride. “Two double attacks at the same time. That'll get their attention. We'll show them that we won't take this lying down any more. We don't want those pigs here, and they can all go back where they came from, or we'll take them out one by one.”

A resounding cheer erupts from the group.

Back at Thames House, Ruth, Malcolm, Zoe, and Harry listen in on the audio feed from Ben and Tom.

“Malcolm, we need to locate Rivers,” Harry says.

“Already on it,” Malcolm replies as he trawls though CCTV footage from the area.

“I'll help,” Zoe, their new recruit, offers.

“Danny,” Harry speaks into the microphone. “We'll need you to lead a CO-19 team to capture the second cell when we've located Rivers. Sally, you stay with the van and lead the CO-19 team we send to capture Roland's cell. Make sure they know that Ben and Tom are in there when the time comes.”

“Okay,” Sally replies.

“If it's a double attack,” Ruth says thoughtfully, “it probably means they're using bombs set to go off several minutes after each other.”

Harry meets her eyes with a look of admiration and nods his assent, “I agree, and it looks like it's happening tomorrow since they've been isolated.”

Ruth nods and holds his gaze. Heat rises up between them, but Harry shuts it off quickly, looking away and saying in a strangled voice, “We _must_ find Rivers.”

“We will,” she replies confidently and turns to the computer to help trawl through CCTV footage.

Harry looks at her for a moment and then returns to his office. He walks over to his decanter, and knowing that he has to stay sharp for this operation, he pours himself a _small_ measure of single malt. Taking it back to his desk, he sits down and takes a sip, closing his eyes momentarily and savouring the flavour and the fire that coats his tongue and slides down his throat. He puts the glass down on the table, and staring at it intently, twists it around with his fingers. This operation is costing him a lot in self-control. His torture at the hands of the RBB is something that he always knew he'll never really get over, but he didn't expect it to affect his ability to perform his job to such an extent in this instance. He thought he'd put it behind him, shut it away. Since the beginning of this operation, however, he's been finding it difficult to control his anger, and he's very nearly lost it several times with his officers. Especially with Ruth. Her worry and concern for him, clearly visible in her expressive eyes, have made it even harder for him to stay in control. His mood has oscillated between wanting to yell at them all until he's hoarse and wishing to take a gun and shoot Miller and all the rest single handedly, to feeling like breaking down in tears or taking Ruth in his arms and kissing her senseless. As the day wears on and he gets more tired, he's really worried that he'll do some or all of these things.

The phone rings, and swearing loudly, he picks up the receiver. “This had better be good,” he grumbles.

 

* * *

 

“Anything yet?” Harry asks as he walks through the pods.

“No,” Ruth shakes her head. “How was the Home Secretary?”

“His usual cheerful self,” Harry replies sarcastically. “Always pleased to see me.”

Ruth smiles but it's short lived. They're running out of time to find Josh Rivers and they're all worried.

“Let me know if you find him,” Harry murmurs and turns back toward his office.

Ruth watches him go sadly. She can't figure him out. One moment he looks like he wants to throttle her and everyone else on the team, and the next she's convinced that he's going to grab her, pin her against the wall somewhere, and damn the consequences. But deep in his eyes, she can see the pain that lurks there. She knows that he received minimal counselling after his ordeal, and she can imagine what was the extent of it. A few trips to the resident MI-5 psychologist. Honestly, she cannot see the point of having such a person. Who would want to be open and honest with someone who has the power to get you fired? Briefly she wonders how many more experiences like this he's had in his years working for Five and Six. The thought scares her a little. The man she's in love with is damaged in many ways, she knows. Is it even possible to have a relationship with such a man? Will he ever let her in, past all his barriers? And yet this love she feels for him is based not only on a very strong physical attraction, but on a healthy respect and admiration for who he is. Despite all his flaws, or maybe because of them, he's fundamentally a good man who will make the right decision under intolerable pressure and in impossible situations without any personal agenda. It's very gratifying to work for such a man and to be able to help him in a small way to reach those decisions. But to be his lover, his partner? To take on that role, she'll have to accept his limitations, accept him shutting her out of his thoughts and emotions, accept not knowing his past, and accept the secretive life he'll always lead. She sighs heavily and goes back to her station.

 

* * *

 

Ruth bursts into Harry's office and smiling triumphantly she says, “We've got him.”

Harry looks up and smiles. “Show me,” he invites, and getting up, follows her to the technical suite.

“We got the info from Tom,” Malcolm explains. “He's really got Miller's trust. They're in a warehouse in Birmingham. Danny's on his way with CO-19. It appears to be Rivers and three other blokes.”


	10. Chapter 10

_16th April 1997_

_Birmingham_

 

“I'm at the warehouse,” Danny says. “What do you want me to do?”

“Alpha Two,” Harry responds, “hold your position.”

“Roger that,” Danny replies.

“Do we have confirmation that they're in there, Malcolm?” Harry asks.

“There's a blind spot round the back,” Malcolm responds, “so it's possible that they've left. However, given that it's three in the morning, it's unlikely.”

Harry nods and talks into the microphone, “Alpha Two, get ready to storm the building.”

“Okay,” Danny responds and communicates with the commander of the CO-19 team. A few moments later he says, “In position.”

“You are go, Alpha Two,” Harry says. “Take them down.”

“Right,” Danny replies and motions to the CO-19 leader to begin the assault.

A few moments later, gun fire is heard over the comms. Malcolm and Zoe look at each other. Ruth holds her breath as she waits for news, and Harry leans over her seat and stares at the CCTV on the computer screen intently.

Minutes later, Danny's voice is heard saying, “Base, the target has been neutralized. Two suspects are down and two have been captured. You should see this place! There have enough explosives here to take out a large building.”

Everyone breathes a sigh of relief.

“Good work, Alpha Two,” Harry replies. “Wrap things up and return to base. Alpha One?”

“This is Alpha One,” Sally answers.

“Team B has been neutralized. I want you to take out Team A just before daybreak in two hours.”

“Okay,” Sally replies.

“Good work, everyone,” Harry says and glances around at his three officers.

Zoe excuses herself to get more coffee, and Malcolm wonders out of the room to stretch his legs. They've all been working hard for more than twenty hours and are in desperate need of some rest. None of them, however, have been able to snatch more than an hour's sleep.

Harry's gaze lingers on Ruth as she rubs her eyes with her hands. “Get some rest, Ruth,” he says gently, resting one hand on the back of her chair, the other on the desk in front of her, and leaning in toward her.

“I'm fine,” she replies automatically and is surprised to find his face so close when she opens her eyes again.

“You're exhausted,” he states.

His gaze is gentle and caring, and she finds herself suddenly wide awake as desire sweeps through her. Her heart beats faster and her pupils dilate as they stare at each other. She watches his eyes darken in response and his breathing quickens. They haven't been this close to each other since that night in Oxford, and they're both thrilled to find that their desire is still mutual. Harry's gaze falls to her lips and she's sure that he'll kiss her, but with herculean effort, he reins himself in at the last moment. Moving slowly, he straightens up and takes a step back. However sorely he is tempted, he knows that first they need to talk and now is not the time.

“Try to get some sleep,” he murmurs and then turns around and leaves the room.

She groans in frustration and mumbles, “Intolerable man! You leave me all hot and bothered and expect me to be able to sleep?!”

“What's that?” Malcolm asks as he re-enters the room.

“Nothing,” Ruth replies and turns away to hide a blush. “Just talking to myself. I'll get a cup of tea. Do you want one?”

“No, thanks,” he replies. “Go get some sleep, Ruth. You looks exhausted. Nothing's going to happen until five.”

“You should sleep too,” she counters.

“I'll try, but I'm sure I won't be able to sleep now,” he answers. “I'll sleep in the morning when it's over.”

Shaking her head, Ruth gets up and heads toward the room where they've set up two camp beds. Zoe's already asleep in one of them, so she lies down in the other and closes her eyes. In a few seconds, she's out for the count.

 

* * *

 

“Ruth,” Zoe says and shakes her shoulder gently.

Ruth opens her eyes and sits up.

“What's happened?” she asks.

“CO-19 are about to storm the building,” Zoe explains.

Ruth follows her out of the room, and they hastily make their way to Malcolm and Harry.

“Okay, Alpha One,” Harry is saying as they enter. “You are go.”

“Go, go,” Sally calls to the CO-19 captain.

They hear the thud of the door being broken down. Voices are heard yelling and a few shots ring out. They can hear more of what's going on this time because of Tom and Ben's audio feed.

“What the hell's going on?” Martin asks in a scared voice.

There is the sound of a door being flung back and then a CO-19 officer yells, “On the floor, all of you, hands behind your heads.”

There appears to be no resistance as there hear some scuffling noises.

“He's with us,” Sally says, pointing out Tom.

“There are two more men and another one of our agents,” Tom adds and hurries toward the door.

“We got one in the kitchen,” the CO-19 commanding officer says. “Take this one out to the van,” he orders one of his men.

“Stay behind me, Sir,” another officer calls, but Tom ignores him as he sprints from the room and up the stairs.

In the mean time, through Ben's signal they hear another door burst open.

“You fucking shit!” Roland shouts at Ben.

“What's going on?” Ben asks innocently.

“Don't give me that bullocks. You're a spy,” he yells. “You called them. Well, at least I can take you down with me.”

Ruth raises her hand to her mouth and Zoe gasps. Malcolm stares at the computer screen.

Harry leans over and pressing a button yells, “Get upstairs _now_ , Alpha One. Miller's going to shoot him.” Then he grips the back of Ruth's chair tightly, clenching his jaw. Let them be in time, let them be in time, he repeats silently to himself like a mantra.

“No!” Tom yells just before they hear a gun shot ring out, followed by a yell of pain from Ben, and a thud as Roland hits the floor with Tom on top of him. Tom wrestles the gun from his hand and stands up pointing it at Miller.

“You!?” Roland gasps.

Tom ignores him and says, “Ben?”

“Still here,” Ben replies in a weak voice.

Relief washes over everyone at Thames House. Then CO-19 officers burst into the room. Tom pockets the gun and runs over to Ben. Back at Thames house, Ruth calls an ambulance for him.

“Get an ambulance here now,” Tom orders.

“Ambulance is on it's way, Alpha One,” Harry tells Sally, looking at Ruth with admiration for her quick thinking.

“How does it look?” Ben says in a weak voice.

“You'll live,” Tom murmurs as he puts pressure on his shoulder wound, “A few more centimetres to the right and Malcolm would be looking for a poem.”

“Thanks, Mate,” Ben replies. “I owe you one.”

“You can pay me back in kind sometime,” Tom smiles. “Looks like you'll have a nice scar from it.”

“Something to add to the collection. Might even get me into Harry's league,” Ben chuckles and then groans from the pain.

“No chance, Mate,” Tom smirks. “Harry's got the luck of the devil. There's no way you'll survive long enough to accumulate that many scars. I wouldn't advise starting that kind of a competition.”

Ruth glances at Harry but his face is an impassive mask. Malcolm, on the other hand, is smiling slightly, the left corner of his mouth curving up in a lopsided smile. The ambulance arrives and paramedics take over, patching Ben up quickly for the ride to the hospital.

“Alpha One,” Harry says. “Report.”

Sally's voice replies, “Targets are neutralized. One dead, two are in custody. Delta One is injured in the left shoulder. Delta Two is fine.”

“Good work. Wrap up and come home,” Harry responds. Then he turns and heads out of the room without a word.

 

* * *

 

“Where's Harry?” Ruth asks a few minutes later.

“He's probably on the roof,” Malcolm murmurs without turning round, his focus still on getting the team safely home.

Ruth gets up, and after checking Harry's office, she grabs her coat and heads for the roof. She finds him looking out over the city. His hands are in his pockets and his back is toward her. Slowly she moves to stand next to him, but he doesn't turn to face her.

“You okay?” she asks gently.

He nods but doesn't speak. Slowly she raises her hand and places it on his forearm.

“Harry?” she whispers.

He shakes his head and turns to look at her. She sees the pain in his eyes and watches as a single tear escapes his determined hold on it and trickles down his cheek. Quickly he lifts his hand up and wipes it roughly away, dislodging her hand from his arm in the process and turning his head away from her once more. She watches him for a moment as he struggles with his feelings. She wants to help him so badly, but he's shutting her out and it's so very frustrating. It's time to clear the air between them, she thinks, looking for some constructive way to relieve her annoyance.

Taking a deep breath, she suddenly says, “You come to see me in Oxford, didn't you? I thought I saw you in the street, but when I got there, you were gone.”

His head snaps round to look at her, and he studies her intently for a moment. Her face is serious and her eyes are guarded. Now is not the time he would have chosen for this conversation, but it doesn't look like he has much choice. And if he's honest, he could use something to take his mind off his failure to protect his team. He sighs and nods as he looks down at the ground.

“Why?” she asks. He remains silent and she continues, “You saw Matt with me, didn't you? You thought that I'd moved on.”

He turns away and lets his gaze roam over the city as he nods again.

“Which means that you came to see me because I meant something to you,” she continues in a quiet steady voice.

There's a long pause before he answers. Ruth holds her breath and waits patiently for his next words, but as the seconds tick by, doubt begins to creep into her mind, and she's scared that she's misread him.

“Yes,” he says huskily and turns to face her before adding, “and you still do.”

His gaze softens and for the first time she can see all the love he feels for her shining in his soft, hazel eyes. It takes her breath away, and she makes a split second decision to take the plunge. She has to try. Even if they cannot make it work, she has to try.

“I love you,” she says simply, and placing her hands on his chest, she reaches up and kisses his soft lips.

She surprises him and it takes him a moment to realise what's going on and respond. She's already pulling away when he wraps his arms around her and brings his mouth down on hers, taking her lips in a firm yet loving kiss. She kisses him back with equal ardour and opens her mouth to him. He plunges in desperately, hungrily, possessively, erasing all traces of any other man who might have dared kiss her in his absence. His hands run through her hair, and he trails kisses down the side of her neck, sucking and licking her skin and making her moan.

Eventually she pulls away, and putting some distance between them, makes an attempt to rearrange her rumpled clothing.

“Ruth,” he murmurs huskily and takes a step toward her.

“Harry,” she shakes her head. “This is neither the time, nor the place.”

“When?” he asks simply.

“Later,” she answers in a low seductive voice. “I'll come home with you later.”

He groans and reaches for her but she avoids him, and moving toward the door, she heads downstairs. Turning back to look over the city, he takes deep breaths of the cool spring air. It's amazing what difference those three little words can make, he thinks. She has lifted him up from the depths of pain and suffering that he's been dwelling in for the past week and catapulted him into the heights of bliss that only requited love can bring. And now, instead of standing on the rooftop dwelling on how he failed to protect Ben, he's grateful for Tom's good timing and the fact that Ben's life was spared.

A small smile creeps across his face, and he makes himself a promise to try not to screw this relationship up. Heaven knows he's had enough opportunities to practice before now, and hopefully, he's learned something from his failed marriage and other liaisons. But none of the women that have come before Ruth have meant so much to him. The depth and intensity of his love for her leave him breathless and a little scared if he's honest with himself.

He realises now that he was wrong to believe that his love for her was a result of his suffering at the hands of Jason Miller. He's sure that he would never have been able to forget her, even if she hadn't been the one thing that had kept him alive during that week from hell. Her fierce brilliance, quiet courage, calm collectedness, strong moral fibre, demure beauty, stormy, blue eyes, and veiled passion are such a unique, irresistible combination for him that, he knows, he was lost from the moment she insisted on helping him outside the pub in Oxford. And this absolutely amazing woman actually loves him in return. Why she does, he has no idea, but he'll be damned if he'll let her slip through his fingers again. He turns toward the door with a determined look on his face and makes his way swiftly back to the Grid.

 

* * *

 

“Okay,” Harry says getting up from his chair. “Good work today. Go home all of you. Get some rest. You can write up your reports this afternoon.”

Everyone gets up and they all gratefully make their way out of the meeting room to their desks, where they pick up their things and leave. Disaster has been averted again, Ben is in a stable condition in hospital, and the suspects are safely in MI-5 custody ready for interrogation.

Ruth grabs her things and pauses in front of Harry's office. He's on the phone, but he motions for her to enter and sit down. She sits across from him, watching him as he speaks. From his side of the conversation, she surmises that he's talking to the Home Secretary.

“Thank you, Home Secretary,” Harry says gratefully. “I will. Five o'clock.”

He puts down the phone and grins. It lights up his face, and Ruth realises that it's the first time she's seen him look so happy.

“May I offer you a lift, Ruth?” he asks.

“Thank you, Harry,” she smiles. “I take it your meeting with the Home Secretary isn't until this afternoon?”

“Correct as usual, Miss Evershed,” he winks and glancing at his watch he adds, “I have seven hours until then. What do you suggest I do with them?”

“Well, one or two things come to mind,” she murmurs quietly as she looks down at her hands.

“Such as?” Harry asks, raising his eyebrows at her.

“Go to bed,” she replies innocently.

“And what do you suggest I do there?” he presses.

“Why don't we go and see what pops up?” she grins and then promptly blushes at her forward comment. Harry laughs delightedly and the sound sends a shiver down her spine and makes her stomach flip. Then getting up and taking his coat, Harry steers her out of his office and through the pods.

 

* * *

 

Harry unlocks his door and steps aside to let her in. She brushes past him with a smile and unbuttons her coat as he disables the alarm. He helps her remove her coat and hangs it up. Then removing his own, he hangs it next to hers.

“Tea?” he offers.

She shakes her head and takes a couple of steps toward him until she's standing so close that their chests are almost touching. His breathing quickens, and she sees his pupils dilate with desire.

“Just you,” she murmurs.

He reaches for her and pulls her against him, brushing his lips lightly against hers. She slides her arms behind his back and holds him tight as she deepens the kiss. Harry responds gladly, opening his mouth and letting her tongue in to dance with his. After what seems like an eternity, he pulls away and murmurs in a deep voice laced with desire, “Come upstairs.”

She nods, and taking her hand, he leads her up the stairs and into his bedroom. She glances around briefly, taking in the sparse, simple, wood furnishings and the neatness and order that prevails. The room is lacking in warmth as if its inhabitant spends little time here. What surprises her and draws her attention is a framed reproduction of Jean-Léon Gérôme’s painting of Pygmalion and Galatea.

He follows her gaze to the painting and says, “I found it in a little shop a few years ago, and for some reason, it reminded me of you.” She's touched by his words and smiles at him, her eyes sparkling and dancing in adoration. His breath catches in his throat, and his voice is deep and husky when he murmurs, “I've waited so long to see you look at me like that again.”

He pulls her to him and kisses her tenderly and thoroughly, letting his tongue explore her mouth and his hands caress her soft curves. By unspoken agreement, they move slowly, undressing each other carefully, savouring each new bit of their lover that is revealed to their eyes and touch, and lavishing each other with love. Their first time had been filled with passion and haste, but this time they're determined to explore, love and appreciate each other fully.

He draws the curtains to block out the daylight so they can sleep afterwards and switches on the bedside lamp, wanting to see her adoring eyes and exquisite beauty in its gentle glow. “You are so beautiful, Ruth,” he whispers as he lies down next to her and strokes gentle fingers along her ivory skin.

Her eyes darken and her breathing hitches as his fingertips caress her breasts. Her nipples harden in excitement, and he leans over and takes one of them in his mouth. She draws in a sharp breath and slides her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. He divides his attention between her breasts and her wet heat, bathing them in his love, delighting in each sound of approval he elicits from her.

“I want you inside me,” she whispers in a throaty voice.

“I don't have any condoms,” he admits anxiously and adds by way of an explanation, “I haven't needed them in years.”

“In that case, we won't need one,” she murmurs, “because it's been years for me too.” Their yearly physical exams include extensive blood work, and she knows that Harry would never knowingly put her in danger. She trust him. He still looks worried so she adds, “I'm also not going to become pregnant.”

He smiles in relief, and without further delay, he positions himself between her legs. He sits back on his heels and uses one hand to run the tip of his penis along her delicate folds, coating himself in her juices. His eyes darken at the sight of his manhood caressing her so intimately, and he repeats the motion again and again, drunk on the sight and feel of her sex against his.

She whimpers in frustration, pushing herself toward him, and he looks up at her eyes and murmurs, “You're so exquisite. I can't get enough of you, Ruth.”

Then he places himself at her opening, and leaning forward, he pushes against it, sliding smoothly in and filling her with his length. He pauses and looks into her sparkling eyes, bending his elbows and supporting his weight on his forearms. They kiss softly and tenderly, revelling in the feel of their joined bodies. Ruth wraps her legs around his waist, and he takes it as permission to start moving. He lifts himself onto his hands, and moving slowly at first and changing the angle of his thrusts, he finds the rhythm and position that stimulates her best.

She grips his shoulders tightly, rising up to meet him and pulling him closer with her legs on every thrust as she holds his gaze, delighting at the sizzling heat emanating from his lust filled eyes. Soon all she can focus on are the sensations coursing through her as she nears her climax, becoming more vocal the closer she gets to the edge, directing him and murmuring words of encouragement and love. He thrusts deeper and faster, knowing that he won't last long now, struggling to hold himself back. And when she bursts, calling out his name and digging her nails into his shoulders as her muscles contract around his length, and he barely registers the pain as his own orgasm rips through him and he pours his seed deep inside her. “Ruth,” he murmurs and crushes her into the sheets, “My Ruth.”

He rolls over onto his side, and pulling her close, he covers both of them in the duvet and reaches over to switch off the light. They cradle each other close, a feeling of pure bliss settling over them as they fall asleep quickly, relaxed and contented from their love making and exhausted from their long working day.

 

* * *

 

She lies in his arms, her head resting on his left shoulder and her hand trailing along his stomach. She listens to his heart beating steadily in his chest and smiles contentedly. She can tell when he wakes up from the change in his breathing pattern, but she's happy where she is and doesn't move. Slowly, she traces the line of an old scar on his abdomen and asks, “Where's that one from?”

“Ireland, an encounter with a knife in the hands of the IRA,” he murmurs sleepily.

She lifts herself up on her right elbow and gazes down at him.

“And this one?” she asks touching a scar on his right shoulder.

“Gun shot wound also courtesy of the IRA,” he replies as he lets his eyes drift closed again.

She traces a faint line on his cheek and raises her eyebrows in question.

“Jacob Miller,” he replies, opening his eyes and looking at her. Tears gather in her eyes and she blinks rapidly as he says, “Hey, shhhhh...don't cry,” and strokes her hair.

“It sounded terrible,” she replies, her voice unsteady, “what they did to you.”

“It's okay,” he murmurs. “It's over now. I'm fine.”

“Harry,” she argues with a worried frown, “you're far from fine.”

He looks at her steadily for a moment and shrugs. “I'll be all right,” he murmurs.

She doesn't look convinced but says no more, knowing that it's pointless to argue with him. He knows he's shutting her out and can tell that she's hurt by it even though she tries to hide it. He wonders briefly when he learned to read her so well. He's not ready to talk about what happened to him with anyone yet, and he knows that he very possibly never will be. “I'm sorry, Ruth. I can't talk about it,” he murmurs and he sees understanding in her eyes as she nods sadly. He gives her a grateful look, and as a concession, he says quietly, “You're the reason I survived.”

“Me?” she asks.

“I thought of you,” he explains, “and the thought of seeing you when I got out kept me going. So they couldn't hurt me.”

“Oh, Harry,” she says, “but they did hurt you. So very much.”

“Not in here,” he replies and touches his temple, “or in here,” he adds and puts his hand over his heart. Then he adds, “I love you, Ruth.”

“Harry,” she murmurs, “I love you too. I always have. I waited and waited for you, hoping that you'd come back. And then you did and I missed it. I missed the opportunity to show you how much you mean to me.” She shakes her head sadly.

“I know and I'm sorry,” he replies, “but you've shown me now,” he adds and kisses her softly.

“Yes,” she murmurs against his lips. “Now, let me show you again.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

_28 th April 1997_

_London_

 

“Have you noticed something different about Harry?” Danny asks, twiddling his pen between his fingers.

“Yes,” Zoe replies. “He seems up-beat.”

“I wonder what it is,” Danny murmurs thoughtfully.

“What's what?” Sally interjects.

“The reason for Harry's good mood,” Zoe explains.

“Sex,” Tom states matter of factly.

“Really?” Danny asks incredulously. “But when? He's always here, isn't he?”

“Argh!” Sally exclaims. “I really don't want that picture in my head.”

“Maybe it's someone in Five,” Tom shrugs.

“Oh, like who?” Zoe asks. “Sally, Ruth, and I are too young for him.”

“Oh, Zoe, Zoe, Zoe,” Tom smirks. “A woman is _never_ too young for a man.”

“Argh!” Sally exclaims, “That's it. I'm leaving.”

“I guess we know it's not Sally then,” Danny teases.

“Which leaves me or Ruth I suppose,” Zoe glares.

“I know it's not you, dear flat mate,” Danny replies smugly.

“So you're telling me it's Ruth!” she exclaims.

“Hmmm...” Tom murmurs. “They _do_ both work late most nights.”

“You two are full of it,” Zoe says and turns back to her work.

“Anyway,” Sally re-enters the conversation, “it's bound to be someone from a different section.”

“Who is?” Harry asks, walking up behind her.

Everyone avoids his gaze and quickly returns to work.

“Nothing, Harry,” Tom murmurs. “We were just trying to figure out who, um...”

“Who what?” Harry presses.

Tom suddenly spots Ruth passing by on the way to the technical suite and says, “Who Ruth's dating. We think it's someone from Five.”

Harry raises his eyebrows and says, “Well, she hasn't filled in an S24. What evidence do you have that she's seeing someone?”

“Um...” Tom murmurs. “None really. We just think she looks happy.”

Harry raises his eyebrows again and says, “Happy? That's it?! I suggest that you all stop wasting your time and mine, get back to work, and leave poor Ruth to enjoy her happiness.”

Harry turns his back on the group and walks to his office, a broad grin spreading across his face.

“Did you see that?” Danny whispers.

“What?” Zoe and Sally say almost at the same time.

“Harry,” Danny murmurs. “The spring in his step. Tom's right. He's definitely getting some.”


	12. Chapter 12

_3 rd October, 1997_

_London_

 

He opens the door softly and walks into the house, closing and locking it behind him. Quickly, he removes his coat and hangs it up. Then he sits on the bottom step and removes his shoes. He stands up, and walking quietly, he peeks into the sitting room. The lamp in the corner is on and he can see Ruth lying on the sofa, curled up in a ball with a blanket covering her body and her head on a cushion. He tiptoes up to her, and crouching down in front of her, he lets his eyes rest on her beautiful face. He smiles at the sight of her sleeping form and gently pushes back a strand of hair that has slid over her face. She doesn't stir, and glancing down at her shoulders, he notes that she's wearing pyjamas. Slowly and quietly, he gets up and wonders into the kitchen. He turns off the oven, and opening it, he takes out the plate of food that he knows will be waiting for him. He carries it to the table where a place has been set for him. Then he sits down and begins to eat.

Over the last few months, life has changed a lot for Harry. His relationship with Ruth has changed everything for him. Although work continues to have its challenges and can be physically and emotionally exhausting, he doesn't have to face these things alone any more. When he was married, he'd tried to keep his work separate from his home life, wishing to protect his wife and children from the horrors of his job. For him, this meant that he was often misunderstood and judged unfairly by Jane, thought to be fair, he'd often been guilty of doing the same. In the end, he'd sought solace in the arms of fellow agents who, although they understood the strain and dangers of the job, didn't love him or care for him like Jane did. With Ruth, he's found the best of both worlds, a woman who loves him deeply and whom he loves in return, but someone who also understands that duty must come before personal feelings, and that, when he chooses Queen and country over her, it doesn't mean that he loves her any less. So now, he's even finding it possible to open up to her in ways he'd never thought he would. When they'd lost Ben last July, they were all devastated, but he found that, helping Ruth through her grief by just talking and holding her, actually helped him too. Although he knows the pain will never leave him, it's not nearly as difficult to deal with as it used to be when he was alone.

Lately, he's found himself wanting to move faster with their relationship, but he knows that Ruth isn't ready yet. She's still reluctant to let it become general knowledge at work, and although they've swapped keys and spend most nights with each other, he knows she's not ready for the next step of living together. At work, he's been trying his best to keep their relationship a secret. Even the shock of Ben's death didn't reveal anything to the team. He'd shut himself in his office to avoid the temptation of reaching out to her in front of everyone. It was only once they got to his home that they'd freely expressed their need to be comforted by each other.

He gets up and washes his plate, knife, fork, and glass. The clinking noise coming from the kitchen wakes Ruth. She uncurls herself from the sofa, and putting on her slippers, walks into the kitchen. She silently slips behind him and wraps her arms around his waist. He's getting to be a little chubby, she muses as she presses her face between his shoulder blades and inhales deeply.

“Hello,” he smiles. “Thanks for supper.”

“Mmmm,” she murmurs. “My pleasure. You smell good.”

He chuckles and reaching for the towel dries his hands and turns in her arms to face her. He hugs her to him and buries his face in her hair.

“Let's go to bed,” she whispers.

He nods, and after they let go of each other, he reaches for her hand and together they make their way upstairs to Ruth's bedroom. Ruth slides under the covers, and Harry takes himself off to the bathroom to shower and get ready for bed.

Ruth loves life with Harry. She's surprised sometimes that they fit so well together. Even through she's still frustrated at times by his emotional distance, which is especially pronounced when they're in the middle of an operation, most of the time they manage all right together. He's certainly much more open than when they'd started dating, and she hopes that this will only improve with time. She knows a lot more about him now, mostly little things, like the fact that he loves to have his ears massaged, or that his favourite colour is purple, something she is sure he's still embarrassed about revealing. Part of the reason that she's so reluctant to let their relationship be known at work is that she's scared that it will change things, not only for her and how people look at her and behave toward her, but also between them and how they relate to each other. She's scared that Harry will retreat into his shell again, and what progress they've made will be lost. At the same time, she recognises that in order to move forward they have to take the plunge at some point. But not just yet, she thinks, not just yet.

Harry appears in the doorway, crosses the room, and gets into bed, placing his phone on the bedside table. She waits for him to lie down on his back, and then she cuddles up to him, draping an arm and a leg over him. They do this most nights and it has become a sort of ritual. They lie like this while they talk for a little while, and when they're ready to sleep, she turns onto her side, and Harry spoons himself around her so that his tummy's flush against her back, and his arm circles her waist.

“What time is it?” she murmurs.

“Late,” he replies. “Half past one.”

She nods and asks, “How was the meeting?”

“Mind numbingly boring,” he answers. “I almost fell asleep while the Home Secretary was speaking.”

“I would have liked to see his face if that happened,” Ruth chuckles.

“That's exactly what I thought,” Harry smiles. “I was actually tempted to pretend to fall asleep just to see what he did.”

“Wouldn't be the first time you tried that,” Ruth says and turns to watch his face.

“No,” he murmurs and looks into her eyes, “but the last time I did, it was very enjoyable.”

Pleased to have confirmed her suspicions, Ruth murmurs, “How so?”

“I heard an awful lot to my advantage,” he smiles. “I particularly remember someone saying that it wasn't a crime to fancy me.”

“No,” she says, pushing herself up onto one elbow. “Far from it. I'd say it was the most sensible thing I've ever done.”

“I can tell you I had trouble keeping my breathing even,” he responds, his voice taking on a deeper, huskier tone, “and then in the car, when you said that you'd like it if I kissed you again, I felt like all my Christmases had come at once.”

She leans forward and captures his lips in a soft kiss, sucking gently on his full bottom lip. He returns the favour, and parting his lips slightly, he runs the tip of his tongue along her top lip while he brings his hands to her neck, and spreading his fingers wide, he massages along her hairline and runs his thumbs sensuously along her jaw. She moans into his mouth as their lips part further, and her tongue dips in and swirls around his. The kiss is luxuriously hedonistic and when they break apart, several minutes later, they're both aching for more.

Ruth slides slowly down his body, keeping her eyes locked with his as she runs her palms along his chest over his t-shirt. She reaches the band of his boxers and slides her fingers beneath it, caressing his abdomen lightly and causing his breath to catch in his throat. She watches his eyes darken as, curling her fingers under the elastic, she pulls his underwear down over his erect penis and slides it off. Then she runs the tips of her fingers along the inside to his thighs from his knees to his groin, and taking a deep breath, she blows gently over his balls. She hears him gasp, and extending her tongue, she licks his shaft with short, quick motions. She repeats her movements, teasing him until he can bear it no longer, but before he has a chance to move, she leans forward, and starting at the base, she slides her tongue all the way up his shaft, and reaching the tip of his manhood, she opens her mouth and takes him inside.

“Ruth,” he murmurs as she sucks hard on his cock. His hands find their way to her hair, and he holds her steady as he pushes his pelvis up toward her mouth, fighting back his instinct to push in really deep. She lets him set the rhythm and moves with him, sucking on his penis and caressing his balls and thighs, and mere seconds later, he comes in her mouth, calling out her name in ecstasy. She swallows, and kissing his penis lovingly one more time, she moves up the bed and lies down on her back next to him. His eyes are closed and he doesn't move, but makes a contented sound in his throat as he caresses her tummy with his hand. She kisses his shoulder and smiles with satisfaction.

A few moments later, his deep even breathing tells her that he's fallen asleep. She knows that he's had an exhausting day so she doesn't mind. Turning on her side, she pulls the covers up over him and watches him for a little while. He looks much younger and care free when the lines of his face are softened by sleep, and watching him is one of her favourite things to do. His mouth twitches slightly into a small half smile, and she wonders what he's dreaming about. She lies down on her back, but she knows she won't be able to sleep. She's far too aroused for that. Glancing over at Harry to make sure he's not about to wake up, she slides her hand under the elastic of her pyjamas and begins to gently touch herself.

When Harry wakes up and opens his eyes, he notices that the bedside lamp is still on. He turns to look at Ruth and sees that her face is scrunched up in a very familiar expression that he's seen countless times when they've made love. He lifts himself up on his elbow and watches her with fascination, but his movement alerts her to the fact that he's awake, and she stops the motion of her hand and opens her eyes.

“Don't stop,” he murmurs huskily. “Let me watch you.”

She blushes scarlet at being found out, but the mixture of pleading, awe, and desire in his eye as he looks at her, gives her the courage to be bolder than usual. She pushes back the covers and removes her pyjama bottoms and underwear. Then lowering her hand to her sex, she begins to massage her clitoris once more. She glances at Harry and watches as a look of pure lust settles on his features when his gaze travels down to watch her ministrations. Her breathing quickens and she closes her eyes as the tension coils tightly inside her. Harry watches her, enthralled by the sight before him, and becomes more aroused by the second. Eventually he can bear it no longer, and reaching over to her, he unbuttons her pyjama top, and letting it slide to the side, he caresses her breasts with his hands. Ruth moans in response, and moments later, she comes, arching her back and grunting in satisfaction.

Before she even has time to come back down from her high, Harry lifts himself up, and placing himself between her legs, he pushes into her. She moans and wraps her legs around him, pulling him in deeper. “Harry,” she murmurs wantonly. “Yes. Oh, yes.”

With a groan he lifts himself on his arms and begins to move, pounding into her at the angle he knows she likes and making her grunt his name again and again with every stroke. “Ruth,” he pants as he thrusts into her, “that was... the most... erotic thing... I've ever seen... You drive me wild... Oh God, Ruth... I can't wait... Come, my love... Come with me.”

She whimpers once, and he feels her contract around him as he plunges in and empties himself inside her. He collapses on top of her, unable to move as his whole body and mind turn to jelly. What seems like hours later, he finds the strength to roll off her. He pulls the covers up, switches off the light, and spoons himself around her before they both fall into a deep, restful sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

_23 rd October 1997_

_London_

 

“I'm off to lunch,” Ruth says as she walks into Harry's office. “Do you need me to do anything before I go?”

“No,” Harry murmurs. “You go. Say hello to Matt from me.”

“I will,” she smiles, and letting her eyes soften, she gives him a loving look. She normally reserves those looks for when they're away from the Grid, but she knows he's had a tough day, and she can see a glimmer of jealousy in his expressive eyes. It isn't that he doesn't trust her and Matt, it's the fact that he'd love to be having lunch with her instead which is making him jealous. He nods his acknowledgement and returns to his paperwork as she leaves through the pods.

Ruth walks along the river to the little Indian place where she's meeting Matt. It's a brisk autumn day, and she walks fast with her collar turned up and her hands in her pockets. She's almost at the door of the restaurant when she spots Matt approaching and waits for him.

“Hello,” he smiles and kisses her cheek.

“Hello,” she returns his smile.

Matt holds the door for her and they enter. Soon they're sitting at a table near the back of the small room. They glance at the menu, but they both know what they want, so they place their order quickly. It's been about a month since the last time they've managed to have lunch together.

“So, what's new?” Matt asks after the waitress has left.

“Nothing much,” Ruth replies.

“How's Harry?” he persists.

“He's fine,” Ruth murmurs. “Tired. He sends his greetings.”

“Bet he wishes he was here instead of me though,” he smiles and Ruth is surprised by his insight.

“Yes,” she replies. “I rather think he does. He's been having a tough day, spending most of it in meetings. Diplomacy isn't one of his strong suits, so these types of meetings always wear him out.”

Matt nods in understanding and says, “Not one of mine either. I feel for him.”

“So how's Natalie?” Ruth asks, sensing an opportunity to change the subject.

“She's great,” Matt replies and a loving look spreads across his face. “Actually, I have some news. I asked her to marry me and she said yes.”

“Oh, Matt,” Ruth smiles in delight. “That's wonderful. When's the happy day?”

“In the spring,” he responds. “We haven't set the date yet, but she wants a spring wedding.”

“I'll look forward to it,” Ruth says. “Things are going well between you then?”

“Yes,” Matt smiles. “We're very happy. When I told her I'm meeting you for lunch, she said to ask you if you'll be a bridesmaid.”

“That's sweet of her,” Ruth replies. “You know I'd love to Matt, but I can't promise I'll be able to make it.”

“We both know that,” Matt reassures her. “You won't be the only bridesmaid, so if you're not there, no one will notice. Though all the same, I hope you and Harry can come.”

“In that case, I'd be honoured,” Ruth smiles, “and you know we'll be there if we can.”

Matt nods just as the waitress arrives and serves them their meals. They tuck in hungrily and there's silence between them for a few minutes.

“What aren't you telling me?” Matt asks quietly after he studies her face for a moment.

Ruth looks up at him and says, “Nothing.”

“Hmmm,” Matt murmurs thoughtfully. “How are things with Harry?”

“Fine,” Ruth smiles.

“But?” Matt insists. He can tell there's something that Ruth is reluctant to talk about, something that's making her tense. The last time they'd met, she'd looked radiantly happy, but now she looks worried. He knows from past experience that he needs to press her to open up. She needs to talk about it with someone, or else whatever it is will eat at her from the inside and make her unhappy. She's clearly not talking to Harry about it, which leaves him.

Ruth sighs and says, “It's nothing really. I'm just being silly.”

“Ruth,” Matt explains patiently, “silly is probably one of the last things anyone could call you, so please, just tell me.”

“I can feel that Harry wants to take our relationship to the next level,” Ruth begins after a moment, “and I'm not ready yet.”

“Why?” Matt asks.

“I don't know,” Ruth murmurs. “I suppose I'm worried that if people at work know, and if we move in together, something will go wrong, and I don't think I could bear it.”

“You're worried you'll lose him,” Matt says.

“Yes,” Ruth replies, “and I know it's unreasonable, but I can't help it.”

“Ruth,” Matt reassures her, taking her hand in his across the table, “it isn't unreasonable. You've already experienced a great deal of loss in your life, and it's normal to be scared of it. The thing is you love him, Ruth, so no matter how hard you try to keep him away to protect yourself, it won't work. You'll still be hurt because you've already given him your heart. But you know all that already, don't you?”

Ruth nods and squeezes his hand. She's analysed her reaction and feelings to death, and she knows that losing her father and then her mother, when she was sent off to boarding school, at such a young age has made it hard for her to trust and let people into her heart. In fact, until she'd met Harry, Matt was the only one she'd let in. However, it's reassuring to hear Matt express out loud what she already knows. She just has to take the plunge despite her apprehension and fears.

They finish their meal and leave together, walking some way along the river before they separate with a hug.

“See you soon,” Matt says.

“Yes,” Ruth smiles. “Take care and thank you, Matt.”

“Trust him, Ruth,” Matt replies. “He's good for you. I've never seen you so happy before.”

“Thanks,” Ruth answers. “You look happy too. Give my love to Natalie, and I hope to see both of you again soon. Let's have dinner sometime. I'll call you.”

“Sounds good,” Matt replies, and kissing her cheek, turns and walks away.

 


	14. Chapter 14

_1 st November 1997_

_London_

 

“Happy birthday, Harry,” Tom grins.

“Thank you, Tom,” Harry replies.

He isn't having a very happy one so far. Last night he'd had the meeting from hell, which resulted in him having to write a report for this morning's round two of the same JIC meeting. He'd stayed up half the night completing it and had slept in his office, something he hasn't done in months. So instead of having a lovely, peaceful night with Ruth as he had planned and possibly breakfast in bed for his birthday, he'd slept badly on the sofa in his office and hasn't seen Ruth yet at all. When he'd got back from the JIC meeting just before lunch, she wasn't here. Apparently, she's gone out to meet an asset and she's not back yet. He normally wouldn't mind a day like this, but it's the first time in years that he's had someone to celebrate with, and he really wishes that, for once, fate would conspire to grant him an uneventful evening at the very least. It's not too much to ask, surely.

“Coming to the George tonight to celebrate?” Tom asks.

“Depends,” Harry murmurs.

“Ruth's cleared your schedule for you,” Tom replies. “So unless there is some unforeseen disaster, you'll be free of meetings.”

“Judging by my luck so far,” Harry grumbles, “there's bound to be a bomb threat on the Houses of Parliament, or worse.”

“My, my,” Tom smirks, “aren't you the picture of good cheer today, Harry?”

Harry glares at him and stalks off to his office.

 

* * *

 

“Happy birthday, Harry,” Ruth smiles as she walks into his office.

She doesn't bother to knock as, despite his frequent protests, she knows that he actually enjoys it when she doesn't. He looks up from his paperwork and smiles for the first time today.

“Aren't you a sight for sore eyes,” he murmurs quietly to avoid being overheard.

Ruth places a couple of folders on the desk next to him and opening one, she uses it as an excuse to stand next to him and secretly squeeze his hand, before engaging him in a discussion on the contents of the file.

“Coming to the George tonight, then?” she asks as she straightens up and moves back to the other side of his desk.

“Yes,” he replies, “but I'll have to leave early. I've got plans.”

She smiles in acknowledgement, her eyes twinkling, and leaves the room. He watches her go and glances at his watch. Just two more hours to go until he can reasonably leave for the pub, and another two until he can go home with Ruth. Sighing heavily, he returns his mind to his paperwork.

 

* * *

 

“Happy birthday, Harry,” Malcolm says and places a large box on the table in front of him. “It's from all of us,” he adds.

Harry smiles, and putting down his drink, he opens the box. Inside he finds three bottles of his favourite single malt and a card.

“Thank you,” he smiles looking at each one of them in turn.

“A toast,” Tom announces, raising his glass and waiting until the others do the same. “To Harry, the most determined, headstrong, crafty, and exasperating man we know, and the best boss we could wish for.”

“Harry,” the rest of the group echoes and drinks his health.

“Thank you all,” he smiles and turns his attention to the card in his hand in order to hide his embarrassment and the emotions that are threatening to overwhelm him. He dislikes being the centre of attention like this.

The front of the card has a man dressed in a business suit and it says, “Happy birthday, Boss. You look younger today.” Underneath in brackets is written, “Now, can I have the day off?” Harry chuckles and is almost certain that Ruth chose this card for him. He opens it up and glances over the brief messages from each member of his team. At the bottom of the card is Ruth's message: Happy birthday, Harry. Let's move in together. All my love, always, Ruth xx. He stares and rereads it twice before looking up and seeking her out with his eyes. She's watching him, and as their gazes meet, she raises her eyebrows questioningly. He nods and fights to hold back the grin that wants to spread across his face. Tom, Danny, Zoe, and Malcolm are chatting away with each other, and no one notices the exchange.

Suddenly, Ruth pushes her chair back, making it screech as it slides over the floor and causing all of them to look up. The look of determination on her face holds their attention, and they watch as she gets up and walks round the table toward Harry. Harry watches her too, transfixed by her sparkling, blue eyes and the fire he sees inside them. Ruth reaches his seat, and with one swift motion, turns, and sitting across his lap, she presses her lips to his. Harry recovers from the shock quickly and wraps his arms around her, pulling her closer. There is a stunned silence around the table. Only Tom smiles knowingly as his suspicions about them are confirmed.

The silence is broken a few seconds later as Danny exclaims, “I knew it!” and turning toward Zoe, he holds out his hand expectantly.

Zoe glares at him, and reaching into her purse, produces a twenty pound note that she slaps into his outstretched palm. Danny grins and gets up to get the next round with his winnings. Luckily for him, Harry and Ruth are oblivious to the exchange as they gaze into each other's eyes adoringly. Harry's so moved by her gift that he cannot find any words to express it. He picks up her hand and places it over his heart, sliding both of his over it and pressing it against him. Ruth smiles and nods before leaning forward and giving him a brief kiss. The rest of the team look away hurriedly and begin talking again rather loudly, embarrassed to have seen such an intimate moment between their boss and analyst.

Their chatter brings Ruth and Harry out of their privet little world, and they turn their heads toward the group. “Let's get out of here,” Harry whispers in her ear, and she nods as a small smile spreads across her face. They get up, and taking Ruth's hand in his, he says, “Thank you all for your company, wishes, and gifts. We'll see you tomorrow. Good night.” Then they grab their coats as the rest of the team wishes them good night.

Danny walks back from the bar with the next round of drinks, and taking in the scene before him, says, “Did something come up, Harry?” Five pairs of eyes turn to him in disbelief, and it takes him a moment to realise that his question could be interpreted in a way other than the one he intended. “No,” he murmurs. “I didn't mean... I meant...” he stammers, and gives an imploring look to his boss.

Harry's expression of disbelief mingled with anger and a tinge of embarrassment is priceless, and Ruth has to bite her bottom lip to keep from laughing out loud. Catching Tom's eye as he grins doesn't help matters, and neither does seeing Zoe duck down behind the table. Only Malcolm seems to be able to hold himself together. So she waves to everyone hurriedly, and pulling Harry by the hand, they leave the pub. Once outside she can't hold back her laughter any longer, and she doubles over from it gasping, “Oh, Harry. I'm sorry,” but she's unable to continue speaking as a new wave of giggles escapes her.

Harry's still fuming and he glares at her, but as he watches her laughing with such complete abandon, he can't help but acknowledge that the situation was indeed quite funny, and he feels his anger slowly dissipate. When Ruth manages to get herself under some semblance of control a few minutes later, she straightens up and wipes away the tears that are running down her cheeks. Her eyes are still dancing in merriment, and he can't help but return the smile she gives him. He realises that he's never before seen an expression of such complete joy from her, and he wishes that it would happen more often, even if he had to suffer a similar form of embarrassment or humiliation.

“Shall we go then?” he asks quietly.

Ruth nods, not trusting herself to speak yet lest she burst out laughing again. She links her arm though his and kisses his cheek lovingly before they set off to her home.

 

* * *

 

As soon as Ruth and Harry leave, Zoe and Tom burst out laughing. Even Malcolm chuckles before murmuring, “What in heaven's name possessed you to say such a thing, Daniel?”

“Hey,” Danny replies with a grin. “It's you lot who need to get your minds out of the gutter. It was a perfectly innocent question.”

“Well, Danny,” Zoe smiles, “innocent or not, you'd better start packing your bags. Harry's bound to have you transferred to some God forsaken country in the morning.”

“Not necessarily,” Danny responds. “I'd say it all depends on how happy Ruth makes him tonight. Besides she has a soft spot for me, so she won't let him get rid of me.”

“Maybe not,” Tom replies, “but he'll still get you back for that. Be prepared to be out in the surveillance van for the next few months.”

Danny looks gloomily down at his drink. Tom's probably right.

“Did you all know?” Malcolm asks presently.

“I did,” Danny says smugly.

“No, you didn't,” Zoe challenges him. “You bet me that Harry was sleeping with someone from Five. You didn't know it was Ruth.”

“It's embarrassing really,” Malcolm murmurs, “that none of us noticed. We're supposed to be spooks!”

“Harry was one of the best in the field,” Danny replies, “but Ruth! She should be a field agent with skills like that.”

“I thought it was pretty obvious,” Tom says and takes a gulp of his beer.

“You're just saying that,” Zoe replies.

“No, really,” Tom responds. “I caught Harry watching her one night when he thought everyone else had gone home. He was practically undressing her with his eyes, and she didn't seem to mind at all. And then there's the way Ruth can always question his judgement or barge into his office without getting her head bitten off like the rest of us. Plus they both seem to be happier lately, and I don't believe in coincidences.”

“Well, good for them, I say,” Malcolm murmurs, and there are nods of agreement from everyone.

“I must say, having Harry in a good mood makes for a much better working environment,” Danny adds and they all laugh.

 

* * *

 

“So, shall I move into your house, or will you move into mine?” Ruth murmurs against his chest.

They're both sitting on the sofa after the dinner Ruth prepared for Harry, complete with a small chocolate birthday cake. Ruth has her cheek resting on his chest and her legs across his lap. Harry's arms are wrapped around her, holding her close.

“My house is bigger,” he replies, stroking her hair absently.

“Yes,” she replies, “and we'll need the extra space for all my books.”

Harry chuckles and murmurs, “They could have a whole room to themselves if you like.”

“That might not be such a bad idea,” Ruth replies. “They have a habit of walking off and leaving themselves all over the place.”

“Hmmm,” he says. “I've noticed that. Happens with a lot of your things actually, particularly the shoes.”

“It drives you crazy, doesn't it?” she smiles and tilts her head up to look at him.

“Yes,” he concedes. “I think I could handle it better if it was just the books that persisted in being out of their proper place.”

“I'll have a talk with them and see if they can reform their ways,” she grins and reaches up to kiss his cheek. “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” he smiles. “I'm sure I do some things that irritate you too.”

“You mean like taking all the covers in the night?” she grins.

“Ah,” he chuckles. “Now _that_ is actually a very deliberate tactic for getting you to come closer.”

“You don't need to use tricks for that, Harry,” she murmurs. “There's nowhere I'd rather be.”

“In that case,” he says huskily, “let me show you just how close we can get.”


	15. Chapter 15

_7th March 1998_

_London_

 

Harry turns the key in the lock, opens the door, and walks into his house. A heavenly smell accosts him, and after taking off his coat and hanging it up, he makes his way swiftly to the kitchen. He pauses in the doorway and watches her for a moment. She has her back toward him and is humming a tune under her breath as she stirs something in the saucepan with a wooden spoon. She's wearing high heels and a dark navy, silky dress that skims her knees and hugs her every curve perfectly. His hands itch to touch her, but he holds himself in check, allowing only his gaze to glide over her and gently caress her skin as he lets his eyes travel up her shapely legs to her round, soft bottom, and then up her back to her delicate neck. He smiles as he notices the apron stings tied around her waist and neck, and even though they rather ruin the effect of her alluring outfit, he doesn't mind. It's such a domestic sight, and the warmth that settles over his heart at the sight is ample compensation for any momentary disappointment he experiences. Having let himself take his fill of her from the doorway, he moves slowly toward her to see how close he can get before she senses his presence. It's a game they both love to play.

“Hi,” she smiles without turning around when he's about a metre from her.

“Hello,” he says as he moves even closer. “That smells delicious.” A metre isn't bad, he thinks. He's getting better at it, and soon, he hopes that he'll be able to make it all the way to her before she notices him.

Ruth tuns toward him and smiles, “Thank you. Glad you made it home in time.”

“Thankfully the DG also had plans,” Harry replies as he steps behind her.

Ruth's turned back to face the cooker where she's finishing cooking a white sauce, and he embraces her, nuzzling his face into her neck to tickle her and making her squirm.

“Apparently it's his wedding anniversary and he couldn't be late home,” he adds as he lifts his head and then scrapes the stubble on his chin against her bare shoulder.

“Stop it,” she giggles and tries to move away from him without success.

He chuckles and lifts his head, pressing a kiss to her hair as he murmurs, “So, what can I do to help?”

“Um,” Ruth says, thinking about what remains to be done as she switches off the ring and removes the saucepan from it.

Once her hands are free, Harry takes the opportunity to lower his face toward her shoulder again. This time he kisses her softly with his lips and trails kisses up her neck toward her jaw, making her hum contentedly and lean into his embrace. He continues kissing her jaw, spinning her round in his arms as he moves toward her mouth.

“You were saying,” he murmurs huskily as he bites her chin playfully.

“I haven't the foggiest,” she sighs.

He chuckles and continues to kiss her, moving to her cheeks and running his fingers through her hair.

“Oh,” she sighs and her hands find their way under his suit jacket to glide over his back.

“I love you, Ruth,” he murmurs and presses a gentle kiss to her lips.

“Mmmm,” she moans and pulls him tighter against her.

They open their mouths slowly, savouring the moment as their tongues venture out and swirl together. The best thing about keeping their conduct at work strictly professional is that they can make up for it when they get home at night. All the pent up longing and passion from working in close proximity without indulging in their desires makes every evening together wonderful. Their kiss is gentle and full of love, slow and luxurious, and it feels like it lasts an eternity.

They pull apart and Harry murmurs, “How long until they get here?”

As if in answer to his question, the doorbell rings, and sighing heavily, he steps away from her, running his hands down her sides appreciatively before letting them drop to his sides.

“I think you'd better get that,” he says with a wry smile as he attempts to rearrange his clothing to hide the evidence of his desire.

She glances down at the bulge in his trousers and grins, “I think that's probably wise.”

“I'll go take a quick shower,” he replies, and kissing her cheek, he hurries upstairs.

Ruth walks to the door, pulling off her apron as she goes and draping it over a chair. It must be very inconvenient to be a man and have your state of arousal be so obvious to everyone else, she muses as she moves out of the kitchen and into the hall. She smiles to herself when she thinks about all the times when she's been really turned on at work and no one's known. She suspects that if Harry had an inkling of how aroused she was at times, neither of them would be able to adhere to the rules they'd agreed on about their conduct around each other at work. They'd probably end up shagging in the loos, or on Harry's desk every day. Mmmmm, she thinks, she wouldn't mind the latter. It's a fantasy she's often indulged in since she joined MI-5. As Ruth passes the hall mirror, she quickly checks her appearance in it. Perhaps her state of arousal is more obvious then she thought, she muses, noting her flushed cheeks and neck. She takes a few calming breaths and swiftly turns her thoughts away from Harry and toward her guests before moving to the door. Then after smoothing down her hair and looking through the peep-hole to make sure it's the people she's expecting, she opens it.

“Hello, Natalie,” she smiles at her best friend's fiancée.

“Hi, Ruth,” Natalie replies warmly and steps forward to embrace her.

“Welcome,” Ruth murmurs and gives her a hug, taking the bottle of wine she offers with a warm thank you.

“Ruthie,” Matt smiles and offers her the roses he's holding.

“Thanks, Mattie,” she teases and they laugh. She takes the flowers and smells them, delighting in the gentle fragrance that emanates from them.

“Come on in,” she smiles, kissing Matt's cheek as he passes, and closing and locking the door behind them. “Harry's just got home. He'll be down in a minute.”

They hang up their coats and Ruth leads them into the sitting room. Then she disappears into the kitchen for a moment to put the flowers in a vase, before she comes back into the room and offers her guests a drink. She's just finished pouring Natalie's wine when Harry appears from upstairs, freshly showered and shaved, and wearing a navy blue shirt and dark jeans. He looks gorgeous, Ruth thinks as she watches him greet Matt and Natalie warmly, and she feels desire bubble up inside her again. She finds him particularly alluring when he wears casual clothing, presumably because she mostly sees him in a suit and tie. There's something to be said for removing a silk tie from a man, she muses, the feel of the silk sliding through your fingers as you pull it from his shirt collar, but after the tie's gone, she'd much rather have Harry in jeans and a shirt, especially if his sleeves are rolled up and-

“Ruth,” he murmurs near her ear, making her jump.

“Sorry,” she blushes. “I was miles away.”

He chuckles and whispers, “I'll say, and from the way you were looking at me, I think I can tell you exactly where you were.”

She shakes her head at him and looks down to hide her blush, murmuring, “I was just contemplating the merits of casual clothing.”

He smirks at her but says nothing further, and instead, leans toward her and kisses her cheek before he takes over pouring the drinks while Ruth excuses herself quickly to go to the kitchen and finish up the cooking. He watches her go, once again admiring the way her dress hugs her curves, before reluctantly returning to his task of pouring Matt and himself a whisky and Ruth a glass of wine.

Ruth pours the white sauce over the food, grates a little cheese on it, and pops it under the grill for a few minutes. Natalie joins her, bringing her the red wine that Harry's poured for her, and while they wait for the food to brown under the grill, they chat away about this and that, but mostly about the preparations for Natalie and Matt's wedding in April. Ruth's very happy for them and is particularly pleased because she really likes Natalie and feels as if she's gaining a new friend from her union with Matt. She's actually looking forward to being a bridesmaid too, and she hopes that nothing happens on the day to prevent her from attending.

In the mean time, Matt and Harry are talking about cricket, something both of them love. They've become more than just acquaintances over the last few months that Ruth and Harry have been together, and although they'd probably never seek out each other's company if they didn't have Ruth in common, they still enjoy the time they do end up spending together.

When they eventually exhaust the subject, Harry says, “So how are the wedding plans going?”

Matt makes a face and murmurs, “They're so complicated. I never imagined that a single event could take so much planning and time to arrange. I'm starting to think that we should have opted for eloping, rather than going through with all this. Natalie's enjoying most of it, though even _she's_ a little overwhelmed at times. Our mothers are having the time of their lives, however.”

Harry chuckles and shakes his head, wondering if such a fate is in store for him too if Ruth ever agrees to marry him.

“So when are you and Ruth going to tie the knot?” Matt asks suddenly.

Harry looks up at him sharply. Matt certainly doesn't shy away from awkward conversations, which is actually something Harry really likes about him. He thinks for a moment and then answers carefully, “If it were up to me alone, tomorrow wouldn't be soon enough, but I have no idea if she's ready for the next step, or if it's something she would even consider with me, and I don't want to ask her unless I'm reasonably sure of a positive response.” Matt nods in understanding and Harry, realising that Matt might have a better insight into Ruth's thoughts in this instance, continues, “What do you think? Would she say yes?”

“It's hard to say,” Matt replies. “She loves you. Of that, I'm sure. But she's also very scared of change. She's always been scared that change will lead to loss.”

Harry frowns, and without thinking, he murmurs, “That's probably not the only thing she's scared of.” Matt looks at him quizzically, and with a sigh, Harry continues, feeling that he should share what is, after all, common knowledge on the Grid, “I was married once before and it didn't work out very well. I'm ashamed to say that I cheated on my wife repeatedly.”

“Ah,” Matt murmurs, “and Ruth knows about this.”

“Are you kidding?” Harry replies in an exasperated voice. “Everyone seems to know about it.” He pauses, rubbing his face with his hands before looking up, and then adds, “Anyway, the point is that I don't know how to show her that I've changed. I didn't love Jane nearly enough to marry her, and she never really understood me, so when circumstances pushed us apart, our marriage didn't survive. We were young and naive, and marriage seemed like the next logical step in our relationship. We should never have taken it. With Ruth, however, everything's different. I love her to distraction and would never hurt her.” At least I hope I will never have to, he thinks. It terrifies him to think that one day he might have to choose between protecting Ruth and protecting millions of innocent people. He knows what he would do, what she would expect and want him to do, and he also knows that it would destroy him.

Matt nods thoughtfully and says, “I can see that. I'll talk to her, Harry. Unless you'd rather I didn't.”

Harry shrugs and replies, “No, it's fine. You're a good friend to her. I just want her to be happy, and much as I'd like to marry her, I can happily live with what we have now until she's ready.”

They're silent for a few moments, each lost in their thoughts, until almost simultaneously, they decide to go into the kitchen and help Ruth. Soon everything's ready and they all sit down at the dinning table while Harry insists on serving the food and letting Ruth rest. He meant to be home in time to help her cook, but the last minute meeting with the DG had unfortunately prevented him from doing that.

Once they've all been served, they begin to eat and chat about a variety of subjects from films and books to current affairs. Soon there's a lull in the conversation as they all fall silent for a few moments and concentrate on their food. Then Ruth asks Matt, “So what's new in the world of finance?”

Matt sighs and shakes his head, “Not much. Everything's the same really.”

“You don't sound very happy about that,” Harry comments.

“He isn't,” Natalie replies cheerfully. “I keep telling him he needs to change careers, but he won't listen.”

“Oh, and how will we pay the bills if I do?” Matt asks with a frown.

“We'll figure it out,” Natalie smiles. “Your job satisfaction is more important, and if you don't do it now, you never will. By the time you completely lose your patience, we'll probably have a family and then we'll _really_ need the money.”

“Sounds logical to me,” Harry chimes in and is rewarded with a smile from Natalie. “What would you do if you could change jobs?”

Matt shrugs his shoulders. He's not quite sure what he wants to do, which is part of the reason that he hasn't made a decision to leave the world of finance yet.

“Teach secondary school maths,” Ruth says confidently. Everyone looks at her and she raises her eyebrows at Matt and adds, “Well? Am I right?”

“I haven't really thought about that,” he murmurs thoughtfully.

“You've always enjoyed teaching, Matt,” she smiles. “Remember when you used to tutor your classmates when we were in secondary school?” Then turning to Natalie she confides, “He used to tutor the girls in his class in maths in the hope of getting one of them to date him.” Natalie laughs and Ruth smiles at Matt before adding, “You were actually very good at teaching. You helped me a lot with trig during the summer holidays one year. Don't you remember? I think you'd make a great teacher.”

“I agree,” Natalie nods now that she's thought about it. “You're very patient and are always able to figure out what the other person hasn't understood when someone runs into difficulty. You could go back to uni and train as a teacher.”

Matt nods silently and Harry can see that he's thinking about it but is obviously not ready to discuss it any further, so he says, “Right, now that we've sorted out Matthew's career change, how about some dessert?”

Ruth smiles at him and nods as she gets up to clear the dishes. Harry rises to help her, but Matt volunteers himself to do the job, saying to the others, “You two sit down and relax. Ruth and I have some catching up to do.”

Harry raises his eyebrows in surprise at his tone of voice, but he sits back down and turning to Natalie says, “He can be quite commanding at times, can't he?”

Natalie laughs and says, “Talk about the pot calling the kettle black, Harry! Does it bother you when he spends time alone with Ruth?”

“A little,” Harry sighs, surprising himself by being honest, “but I can't begrudge her having a good friend. They're hard to come by. Does it bother you?”

“Not at all,” Natalie smiles. “I'm not really the jealous type. I never have been, and I know how important having a life-long friend is. My friend, Jackie, and I have know each other since we were five. Do you have any such friends, Harry?”

“I have Ruth,” Harry nods, but there is a sadness in his eyes as he says it.

Natalie picks up on it and says, “You don't have to compete with Matt, Harry. The longer you and Ruth are together, the less important Matt becomes to her. She and Matt shared their childhood, but you are sharing her adult life with her. In a few years, you'll have been together longer than she and Matt were as children.”

Harry smiles at her and nods, trying to shake off the gloom that has settled over him at their talk of life-long friends. He's lost both of his, his brother, the companion of his childhood, and his best friend from school, and though he usually hides it well, he still misses them both terribly at times. “You're right,” he agrees.

He still looks sad and she says, “There's something else. _Someone_ else?”

Harry tries to pull himself together, and with some effort, he succeeds. “I lost my best friend some time ago,” Harry replies calmly.

“I'm sorry, Harry,” she says sympathetically, but seeing that he doesn't want to talk about it, she changes the subject.

Meanwhile once they enter the kitchen, Matt approaches Ruth and begins to do some of the washing up, while she prepares the dessert.

“Leave it, Matt,” she objects. “You don't have to do that.”

“I want to help,” he says. “Besides, you'll hate it if I just stand around and watch you.”

Ruth smiles at him and nods in agreement, letting him continue as she begins to make the custard.

“So,” he says after a moment, “Harry asked me what I thought your reaction might be if he asked you to marry him.”

Ruth stops what she's doing to stare at him. A myriad of emotions and thoughts flood her brain simultaneously, shock, pleasure, and panic being the most prominent, and it takes her a moment to recover enough to speak. Eventually she manages to grab hold of one of the thoughts that are running though her mind. “He just said that? Out of the blue, he just asked your opinion?” Ruth whispers after a moment, unable to believe that Harry would do such a thing, open up in such a way. “What did you say?”

“Actually, I began the discussion, but he did ask me what I thought. I said I hadn't a clue,” Matt replies, “but I thought I'd ask you seeing as I'm now curious to know myself.”

Ruth's silent for a long time as she turns back to her job of preparing the custard. It isn't like she hasn't considered the possibility that she and Harry might get married, but it's always been something that would happen a long time in the future, after they've been together for a good long while and they've proved their love for each other can last. Yet, Harry, apparently, has been considering it as something that would happen in the near future even though they've been dating for less than a year and have been living together for only four months. But you love him to distraction, a little voice in the back of her mind insists. And if she's honest with herself, since they met, she's never been able to picture herself with anyone else. So in reality, her love has survived more than six years, despite the fact that, for most of that time, they've been apart. Can she be certain that it's the same for Harry though?

“Well?” Matt asks after a bit.

“I don't know,” she murmurs quietly.

“You're scared,” he states.

“Yes,” she replies and turns to look at him.

“Because he cheated on his first wife?” he asks.

“How did you know that?” Ruth replies in surprise.

“He told me,” Matt answers. “He said that he thinks you'll be too scared to say yes. Is he right?”

Ruth nods and says, “I love him, and I'm very happy with him, but he's right. I'm scared that things will change if we get married, that he'll get bored.”

“Has he given you any reason to believe that?” Matt asks gently.

Ruth shakes her head as she realises that she hasn't seen Harry even glance at another woman since she'd started working for him, and judging by the way he watches her at work and the frequency of their love making, he's far from bored with her. In fact, it would be more accurate to say that he can't get enough of her.

“So, if he didn't have this terrible track record from his first marriage, you'd say yes?” Matt continues.

Ruth pauses and thinks before she replies, “I'm not sure.” This realization shocks her a little. So perhaps the reason behind her reluctance to accept the idea of marriage to Harry has nothing to do with him and everything to do with her.

Matt takes a step toward her, drying his hands on the towel before taking her hands in his and saying, “Ruth, you're scared. This is exactly what happened when you were thinking about moving in with him. Did that turn out so bad?”

Ruth shakes her head and murmurs with a smile, “No, it's wonderful.”

“He's changed, Ruth,” Matt says, squeezing her hands gently. “He told me that he never loved his first wife enough, and he never felt like she understood him. It's different with you. I can see that he loves you very deeply, even if you can't. He would never cheat on you, just like I would never cheat on Natalie.” She nods thoughtfully, and he adds, “Think about it,” before he smiles and releases her hands.

Ruth finishes the custard, and pouring it into a jug, she puts it on a tray. Matt helps her put the bowls and the apple crumble on the same tray and picks it up, ready to carry it into the dining room. Before he can move, however, Ruth puts her hand on his arm, and after he turns to look at her, she smiles, “Thank you, Matt. You're right. I'll try not to let my fears get the better of me all the time.”

He nods and replies, “Just don't let them get in the way of your happiness, Ruth. Because if he asks you one day and you say no, even if you justify it perfectly, it'll change everything. Most men don't like being rejected.”

“You're right,” she murmurs worriedly, realising that she hasn't considered this yet. “Harry would be devastated. He's very proud and he'd shut down emotionally. It would ruin everything.”

“So say yes,” Matt smiles.

“I will... if he asks” she replies, suddenly realising that there really would be no other way forward. She would effectively have to choose between life with Harry and life without him, which wouldn't really be a choice for her. She will always choose Harry for as long as he wants her. Then a thought occurs to her, and she adds quickly with a suspicious look at Matt, “Did he ask you to talk to me about this?”

“No,” Matt answers honestly. “He didn't.”

“Good,” she smiles. “Please don't tell him about it.”

“I won't,” Matt assures her. “Now, can we go eat this crumble? The custard's getting a skin on it.”

“Yes, let's,” she smiles, “but don't worry about the skin. Harry loves it.”

 

* * *

 

They finish their dessert, and Harry and Matt clear the table while the women move into the sitting room and Ruth puts on some music. As they're carrying the last of the dishes through to the kitchen, Matt turns to Harry and says, “Ask her.”

He stops what he's doing and looks at Matt. “You talked to her?” he asks, surprised at how quickly Matt managed to have such a difficult conversation with Ruth.

“I can't comment on that,” Matt grins, “but I think you should ask her.”

Harry suddenly feels a little breathless as relief and happiness wash over him. He hadn't realised quite how important this was to him. He's been telling himself that, if Ruth doesn't want to marry him, it really doesn't matter since he still has her in his life and in his home, and he'd almost managed to convince himself. Now however, he realises that it's not true. It does matter. It matters to him a great deal because, if she agrees to marry him, it means that she really loves him, perhaps even as much as he loves her. A smile spreads across Harry's face, and he claps Matt on the shoulder, saying, “You're a good friend, Matt. If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask. I'd be happy to help.”

Matt smiles and they move into the sitting room, leaving the washing up for later. Matt and Natalie sit on the sofa, and he wraps his arm around her shoulders. She leans into his side happily as Harry takes a seat in the arm chair, and Ruth sits down on a cushion on the floor between his legs and rests her head on his knee. He gazes at her adoringly for several moments and runs his fingers though her hair gently as they all talk about this and that, sipping their wine and enjoying the company of their friends.

“Oh, I love this song,” Natalie exclaims suddenly, and getting up, she pulls Matt up to dance with her.

“Would you like to dance, Ruth?” Harry murmurs as his gaze lingers on her beautiful face.

“Yes, please,” she replies and she slowly gets up.

She waits for Harry to stand and steps into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder as he holds her close. It feels so right to be in his arms like this, she thinks happily. It's always been like that, completely natural as if it was always meant to be. During the first few days and weeks of their relationship, it surprised her a little that they were so at ease with each other after waiting so long to be together, but now it seems like it's always been like that. They dance for a little while, savouring the closeness between them and the opportunity to just be together. The few times they've danced on their own, it hasn't lasted long as they've inevitably ended up being distracted by their physical proximity and moved quickly onto love making. It's refreshing, and at the same time, tantalizing and a little frustrating to be so aware of each other and yet not be able to act on their desires; not yet, at any rate.

A few songs later, Matt suggests they play a game.

“How about Never Have I Ever?” Natalie says as they resume their seats with Ruth sitting on the arm of Harry's chair this time.

“How do you play that?” Ruth asks.

“We all start with our fingers pointing up, indicating that we have ten points,” Natalie explains, “and we take turns saying a true statement that begins with never have I ever. For example, never have I ever ridden on a plane. Then, if the statement isn't true for you, you have to put down one finger. The person who has the most fingers up by the end wins.”

“Okay,” Ruth says, “but let's keep this light. Some of us need to make sure we don't reveal any state secrets.”

“Fine,” Natalie smiles.

“You mean I'm not allowed to catch Harry out by saying things like, never have I ever used a false name?” Matt complains and then sighs. “Fine. Spoil sport.”

“I wouldn't worry about it too much, Matt,” Ruth winks. “There are loads of ways to catch Harry out without resorting to the use of dark secrets. After all, he's really much older than all of us and there are loads of things he's done that we haven't.”

“Cheeky,” Harry complains, squeezing Ruth's knee, and everyone laughs.

“All right,” Natalie begins as they all put their fingers up. “I'll start. Never have I ever eaten sea food, except fish that is.”

Harry lowers one finger and Ruth says with a smile, “See?”

Harry narrows his eyes at her so she leans over and kisses his cheek as she rubs his thigh affectionately.

“Never have I ever kissed a man on the lips,” Matt smirks.

“Not fair,” Ruth complains as she lowers one finger.

“Okay,” Harry clears his throat and murmurs quietly as he also lowers one finger. “I have to explain this one. I once had to give CPR to a man so I suppose, technically, I did kiss him.”

“Bad luck, Harry,” Natalie grins.

“All right,” Ruth says. “Never have I ever kissed a woman on the lips.”

All three of the others lower their fingers, and Harry and Matt raise their eyebrows at Natalie.

“Care to explain?” Matt asks with a smirk.

“Not really,” Natalie replies, “but I would like to wipe that smug look off Ruth's face, so...” she tails off, and moving swiftly, she gets up and leans over Ruth, capturing her face in her hands and pressing a kiss to her lips. Matt wolf-whistles and Harry smirks as Ruth looks at Natalie in surprise.

“Now, you can put a finger down too,” Natalie smiles.

“No,” Ruth replies, recovering from her shock. “I didn't kiss you; you kissed me.”

“She has you there, Nat,” Matt grins. “We'll have to play Truth or Dare next so that you can dare her to kiss you.”

“Watch it, smarty pants,” Ruth replies, “or I'll dare you to _French_ kiss Harry.”

“Never have I ever owned a cat,” Harry says quickly, keen to change the subject, and causing the others to laugh and Ruth and Natalie to each lower a finger.

“Never have I ever owned a dog,” Natalie retaliates and everyone else puts a finger down.

“When did you have a dog, Ruth?” Matt asks.

“Don't you remember Apollo?” Ruth replies.

“Apollo?” Harry smiles, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

“I had him when I was six,” Ruth explains and adds with a shrug, “I liked Greek mythology.”

“No surprises there then,” Harry teases and winks at her, causing Ruth to playfully swat his thigh.

“Never have I ever made love in the rain,” Matt says.

“Do you mean that literally?” Harry asks. “As in outside while it was raining?”

“Yes,” Matt nods.

“It's too bloody cold to do that in England,” Ruth complains. The others chuckle, but no one puts down their fingers.

“Never have I ever been outside Europe,” Ruth says. Natalie and Harry each put down a finger and Ruth asks, “Where did you go, Nat?”

“Egypt,” she answers. “What about you Harry?”

“Sorry, I can't say,” he smiles. “Business not pleasure.”

“I see,” Natalie frowns.

“Never have I ever read Great Expectations,” Harry says and everyone else puts down a finger.

“Really?” Ruth asks. “Didn't you have to read it in school?”

“Possibly,” Harry grins. “However, I rarely did what I had to when I was in school.”

Ruth wiggles her eyebrows and says, “Quite the rebel, were you?”

Harry just smiles enigmatically and Natalie continues, “Never have I ever been on a boat, or other maritime vessel.”

“Really?” Harry asks as he, Ruth, and Matt each lower a finger.

“Yup,” Natalie smiles.

“Got it!” Matt exclaims, making everyone turn to look at him. Then he says with a grin, “Never have I ever made love in a car.”

Ruth and Harry both lower a finger as they turn to look at each other, a soft smile playing on Ruth's lips.

“Oooo,” Natalie squeals. “With each other, eh?”

Ruth blushes and looks down at her hands. Then she confesses with a grin, “I was actually tempted to buy the car off Maggie when she was ready to sell it a couple of years later, but it was too old to be practical, so in the end, I didn't.”

“You never told me that,” Harry murmurs quietly, gazing at her intently as she looks back up at him.

“Well, Harry,” Matt grins, “you must be really good in the sack, Mate.”

Harry chuckles without letting his eyes leave Ruth's and replies, “As long as Ruth's happy, that's all that matters.”

“Awww,” Natalie chimes in, “and so sweet too.”

Harry shifts uncomfortably at the attention and praise he's getting, and clearing his throat, he murmurs, “Who's turn is it?”

“It's mine,” Ruth smiles. “Never have I ever been to the gym.”

Everyone else lowers a finger, and Harry's eyebrows shoot up in disbelief and then come back down to form a frown as he says in a firm voice, “I'm going to have to remedy that, Ruth. Even a desk spook needs to be able to defend herself. You're going to sign up for self-defence classes and begin some kind of work out right away.”

“I am not,” she responds determinedly, shaking her head emphatically as she looks at him.

“I'm sorry,” Harry continues in a mildly sarcastic tone, raising his eyebrows again in surprise. “I didn't realise I made it sound like it was optional. It isn't. It's an order.”

“Insufferable man,” she grumbles under her breath, causing Matt and Natalie to laugh.

Harry shakes his head and complains, “See what I have to put up with? No one else under my command would dare question orders.”

“No,” Ruth smiles at him. “They just sometimes ignore them and go behind your back. At least you know I'd never do that.”

“Wow, really?” Natalie asks, fascinated by this insight into the Security Services.

“Needs must,” Harry shrugs and changes the subject by saying, “Never have I ever liked pizza.”

Everyone else lowers a finger and Matt exclaims, “You don't like pizza? What's there not to like?”

Harry shrugs and says, “Everything.”

“But you like quiche,” Ruth remarks with a puzzled frown.

“It tastes different,” Harry replies.

“And cheese on toast,” she adds.

“Yes,” he agrees, then he shrugs and says, “I don't know why I don't like it. I just don't.”

“Next time you come round to ours,” Matt volunteers, “Nat'll cook you her home made pizza and I bet you'll love it.”

“All right,” Harry nods. “As long as you're not offended if I don't, I promise I'll try it.”

“That's settled then,” Natalie says and then adds, “You're not doing too well there, Harry. Only two fingers left. Let's see if we can make it one. Never have I ever played cricket.”

“That did it,” Ruth smiles as she watches Harry and Matt each lower a finger.

“My turn,” Matt says eagerly, rubbing his hands together in glee. “I might be the one to take him out of the game.”

“What _is_ this?” Harry complains. “Why are you all ganging up against me?”

“It's because you're so much better in every other game we've played, Harry,” Ruth smiles and pats his knee reassuringly.

“Damned right,” Matt says, “and it's bloody irritating. Right. Never have I ever been inside a submarine.”

No one puts their finger down and Natalie asks, “Are you sure, Harry? Don't all spies get to ride in a sub?”

“You've been watching too many Bond films,” Harry chuckles. “I've yet to go on a mission that requires the use of a submarine, and before you ask, I was in the army, not the navy.”

“Well, it was worth a try,” Matt sighs.

“Don't worry, Matt. I have the perfect one,” Ruth grins. “Never have I ever been engaged.”

Harry, Matt, and Natalie each lower a finger and Ruth smiles triumphantly, saying, “Got you. You're out.”

Harry turns toward her, shrugs, and says, “We can't have that now, can we? Ruth, will you marry me?”

Matt grins as Natalie glances at Harry swiftly and holds her breath when she realises that he's serious.

Ruth turns to him in surprise and exclaims, “You're asking me to marry you so you can win a game?!”

“No,” he states seriously as he gazes at her with eyes full of love. “I'm asking because I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy.”

She smiles at his reply and only hesitates for a second before her eyes soften and she murmurs, “In that case, yes, Harry. I will.”

A grin spreads across his face as he pulls her toward him, causing her to slide off the arm rest on top of him. He holds her tightly against his chest and presses his lips to hers for a long, loving kiss. Matt wolf-whistles and Natalie squeals in delight. Ruth smiles against his mouth at the sounds of approval from her friends, and pulling back, she looks into his eyes and whispers, “I love you.”

“Mmm,” he hums, “me too.”

Then releasing her, he lets her move herself back onto the arm rest as he fishes into his pocket and brings out a small, old, leather jewellery box. He offers it to Ruth, who gasps and takes it from his outstretched hand.

“When did you get this?” she asks in surprise. “Do you always carry it around with you?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “It was my mother's. I went to see my father earlier this week, and when I told him about you, he gave me this. He said that he could see that I love you as much as he loved my mother, and that you should have it. It's been in my pocket every evening since.”

Ruth is speechless as she looks from Harry to the box and back again. From Harry's words, she surmises that this ring was never given to Jane, and for the first time since they began dating, she feels rather than hopes that they will actually stay together. Not only Matt, but also Harry's father, who after all must know his son very well, can see that his love for her is very deep, perhaps even as deep as hers is for him.

“Open it,” Natalie can't resist whispering.

Ruth looks back down at the box and slowly lifts the lid to reveal a thin band of gold, embellished with six small diamonds, nestled into it at regular intervals. Simple yet elegant, she thinks.

“It's beautiful, Harry,” she murmurs as Harry reaches into the box and takes out the ring. When he lifts her left hand and slides it on, it fits perfectly. Ruth is on the verge of tears as she looks down at her hand and then up at Harry. “It's perfect, Harry,” she manages to say before he pulls her onto his lap and kisses her tenderly on the lips.

When they pull apart several moments later, he clears his throat, and in an effort to lighten the mood as he feels his own tears gather and threaten to fall, he says, “It comes with strings attached, I'm afraid. I had to promise my father that I'd take you to see him the day after you agreed to marry me.”

Ruth smiles and replies, “I'd love to meet your father, Harry.”

“You might say that now, Ruth,” he grumbles, “but he can be a very difficult man.”

“The apple didn't fall far from the tree then,” Ruth grins, making Matt and Natalie laugh and Harry chuckle.

Their friends now step forward with their congratulations, embracing each of them and admiring Ruth's engagement ring. After a few minutes of fuss and chatting about it all, Natalie says, “All right, Ruth, now lower another finger.”

“Oh, no, you don't,” she smiles. “I wasn't engaged when I made the statement so it doesn't count.”

“She's right,” Harry comes to her defence and adds with a smile, “She's nearly always right.”

“I know,” Matt nods in sympathy. “It used to drive me crazy. When Ruth says something, she's thought it through and researched it thoroughly, making her right every time. The only time she's usually wrong is if it's something about herself. She always grossly underestimates herself.”

“Unlike me,” Natalie chimes in. “I'm the opposite. I never underestimate my own abilities.”

“No, Darling,” Matt smiles and kisses her lovingly. “You know all your strengths and weaknesses, and it's one of the things we all admire about you and I love about you.”

“Mmmm,” Natalie hums as he presses his lips to hers once more and deepens their kiss.

“Hey,” Ruth teases. “Are we playing or what?” Matt waves an impatient hand at her to shut her up and continues kissing his fiancée, pulling her closer against him. Ruth turns to Harry and smiles, “I guess they forfeit the game then, and I win.”

“Congratulations,” he grins and pulls her close, pressing his lips against hers and kissing her slowly, lovingly, and thoroughly, until they both lose track of time and their surroundings. Fortunately, Matt and Natalie seem equally oblivious until they come up for air a little while later.

“I think it's time for us to go home,” Matt states a little breathlessly.

“Absolutely,” Harry agrees without taking his eyes off Ruth.

“We'll see ourselves out,” Natalie says happily. “Thanks for dinner and congratulations again.”

Ruth turns toward them and attempts to get up, but Harry holds her in place saying, “They know where the door is, Ruth.”

Matt chuckles, and taking Natalie's hand in his, he waves and moves toward the door.

“But we have to get up anyway to lock the door and set the alarm,” Ruth complains, no longer feeling comfortable ignoring her guests, and knowing how important their security is to him, she uses it to get her own way.

“You're right,” Harry sighs and follows her to the door where they say goodnight to their friends properly. Then Ruth closes and locks the door, and Harry sets the alarm. “Now,” he says in a low rumble as he turns toward her, “where were we?”

“You were kissing me,” Ruth replies with a mischievous smile.

“Ruth,” he murmurs as he takes a few steps toward her, his eyes darkening with desire, “it was a rhetorical question.” He closes the distance between them and pushes her up against the back of the front door before adding, “I know perfectly well where we were and where we're going. Tonight, I'm going to make love to my bride-to-be until the early hours of the morning.”

Ruth whimpers in anticipation and slides her fingers though his hair as his mouth comes down on hers, and he proceeds to do just that.

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

_8 th March 1998,_

_London_

 

Ruth opens her eyes and glances at Harry, who's peacefully sleeping next to her. He's lying on his side, facing her, and his left hand is resting heavily on her stomach. She smiles fondly at him and turns to look at the clock. To her surprise, it's already past nine in the morning. Frowning slightly, she glances at the window. The curtains are drawn, but it seems too dark for such a late hour. She sighs as she realises that it's a very cloudy day and they're probably in for a storm. A distant rumble of thunder confirms her suspicions, and she sighs again. Still, she thinks, it's just as well it isn't a sunny day really, or they wouldn't have been able to sleep in this morning. Neither of them can sleep for long once the sunlight starts streaming through the curtains even when they don't have to be at work early, and after last night, she smiles happily, they definitely needed a lie in. Harry was true to his word, and they didn't fall asleep until almost two in the morning, utterly exhausted and completely sated. In fact, she muses, they didn't even move in their sleep last night.

She extracts her left hand from between them carefully and looks at her engagement ring. It really is beautiful. She smiles at the thought of being engaged to Harry. It seems so natural and yet at the same time so very strange. She wonders how Matt managed to communicate to Harry that she'd accept his proposal without braking his word to her not to tell him about their conversation. It's too much of a coincidence that Harry plucked up the courage to ask her just after she'd decided to accept him. She's sure Matt had something to do with it, and she's equally sure that he wouldn't brake his word. Her smile broadens as she thinks of her friend and how inventive and devious he can be when he wants to achieve something. He'd make a good spook.

She was so surprised when Harry produced the ring yesterday and was really touched when he give her his mother's ring. She wonders what Harry's mother was like. He never talks about her. All Ruth knows is that she died when Harry was finishing university. Hopefully their visit to meet his father today, assuming Harry hasn't changed his mind, will reveal a little more about his family. She would dearly love to know more about them. Although Harry has opened up more in the last few months, and she knows a lot about his personal preferences, his likes, dislikes, passions, and pet hates, he hasn't talked about his past much. She knows that a lot of things he couldn't share even if he wished to, but it would be nice to get a glimpse into his childhood. Was it happy? What did he like to do? Did he get on with his brother? Did they fight? Perhaps today she would get some answers to some of her questions.

She feels Harry stir next to her and turns her head toward him.

“Mmmm,” he murmurs as he begins to wake up and moves closer to her, pressing his face into her hair and inhaling deeply. “Good morning,” he smiles sleepily as he opens his eyes.

“Hello,” she replies and turns onto her side to face him as she slides her arm over him and runs her fingers up and down his back.

He hums contentedly and lets his eyes slide shut again.

“Harry?” she murmurs.

“Mmmm?” he answers.

“I think it's time we got up,” she smiles.

“No,” he replies.

“What do you mean, no?” Ruth asks in surprise. “We can't spend all day in bed!”

“Why not?” he murmurs as his eyes open again and he wraps his arm tightly around her, bringing his hand behind her head and pulling her close. Their lips meet in a soft kiss and he hums contentedly, making her smile. “What are you smiling at?” he murmurs as he pulls away and looks at her.

“You,” she replies. “You're never this laid back in the morning. You usually jump out of bed.”

“After last night, Ruth,” he replies, “I don't think I could jump to save my life.”

She chuckles and kisses his cheek.

“What time is it?” he asks presently.

“Almost half past nine,” she replies.

“You're kidding!” he exclaims, lifting his head up to check the clock. “Bloody hell! I haven't slept in this late since I was in my teens,” he adds in surprise.

“Well,” she teases, “they do say that people become like children as they get old. Ow!” she exclaims as she feels his fingers pinch her side.

“You deserved that,” he says with a dangerous glint in his eye. “Now apologise, or I'll do it again.”

“You wouldn't dare,” she murmurs. Harry's fingers find her side again and she exclaims, “Ow!” and attempts to roll away from him.

“Apologise,” he insists, holding her tightly against him.

“Insufferable man,” she grumbles, and hears him chuckle, making her smile. She relents and adds in a softer tone of voice, “I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.”

“You didn't,” he grins and presses his lips to her neck, seeking out the spot at its base that he knows sends hot tendrils of desire right through to her core.

“Oh,” she moans and pulls him closer, sliding her right leg over his hip and pressing herself against him. It's so unfair, she thinks briefly, that he can do this too her so quickly, before she changes her mind and decides that it's actually rather wonderful. She doesn't care if she loses all the arguments they have for the rest of her life if Harry makes love to her like this instead. His hand has slid down her back to her buttocks by now, caressing her with his fingers and squeezing her soft flesh before his fingertips move further down to her tender heat and slide across her delicate folds.

She's so wet for him already that he groans as he feels his already half-mast erection harden instantly at the knowledge that she wants him. “Oh, God, Ruth. You're so perfect. I can't get enough of you,” he murmurs huskily as he uses his fingers to stroke her all over, moving from the outside in and then back again, teasing her until her slick heat is practically dripping with her juices. Then he brings his pelvis back, and pulling down his hardened length, he places it along her folds and slides back and forth a few times, hearing her mew in approval before he finds the right spot and plunges into her quickly, filling her up just perfectly and making them both cry out.

“Harry,” she groans, and pushing him back, she ends up on top of him. She sits up and gazes at him, her eyes brimming with passion and love as she squeezes him tightly inside her. “God, you're so solid, Harry... and so fucking sexy,” she whispers, spreading her fingers across his broad chest, massaging him firmly and then caressing his skin lightly. Her nails graze his shoulders, arms, and abdomen, sending jolts of pleasure through him and making him moan, and when her lips come to join her fingers and nails in their game, he begins to rock his pelvis under her, causing him to slip in and out of her gently. One of his hands remains on her buttocks, squeezing and stroking in turns, while his other one travels up her side to her breast, cupping and fondling gently and then more firmly as his fingers roll and pinch her nipple delightedly.

She captures his lips in hers, sucking on his full bottom one before opening her mouth and letting his tongue in to dance with hers. Her hands rest on either side of his head now as she begins to rock herself on top of him, squeezing him tightly inside her as he slides in and out of her. Soon their mouths break apart as their breath begins to come in pants, and their gazes lock together. “Oh, yes,” she encourages him, moaning near his ear as the friction brings her ever closer to the edge. “Yes, Harry.”

“Oh, God,” he growls, feeling the tension build higher and higher inside him. His hand slides up and grabs hold of her shoulder as the other one settles on her hip, and planting his feet on the bed, he brings his pelvis up to meet her, pulling her roughly down onto him, moving inside her harder and faster.

She's beginning to see stars now and is moaning loudly with every thrust, the knot inside the very deepest part of her pulsing with energy that sends out sparks every time his hardness jams into it.

This is exquisite bliss, he realises dimly. He truly can't get enough of this woman. If he had the physical stamina, he'd be doing this all day long. As it is, he wants to go deeper inside her, wants to push himself so far in that she can taste him, but he can't get enough leverage like this so he pauses, straitening his legs and murmuring breathlessly, “Let me go on top.”

She lifts herself onto her hands, pressing his shoulders into the mattress so she can see his face, and shakes her head, saying, “I'm the one fucking _you_ today, Harry.” He groans and she can see the lust her words provoke spread across his features. She lifts herself up slowly, exquisitely, feeling him slide out of her until only the tip on him is nestled into her wetness. Then she glides back down, gradually, deliberately, taking her time and enjoying the sensation of him stretching her, filling her bit by bit.

He groans in raw need as she sheaths him slowly inside her. She's teasing him, he knows, waiting for him to beg her for more, and he can't help doing just that. “Faster, Ruth. Please,” he whispers as his hands pull her suddenly down, ramming his shaft into her hard.

The sensation this produces inside her is stunning and it spurs her into action. Eagerly she begins to ride him fast and hard as she forces her eyes to remain open to watch him. His eyes are locked with hers, but he's panting heavily now and she can tell that he's near the edge by the tension in his face, so she murmurs, “Let go. Don't hold back, Harry... For me.” But he continues to struggle to keep his orgasm at bay, so she shifts her hands further down his chest and pinches his nipples with her thumbs and fingers as she grinds against him even faster, and in less than a second, he comes, his face scrunching up in ecstasy and his hands pulling her down roughly as he plunges deep inside her, gushing into her welcoming warmth.

“Fuck,” he gasps and calls out her name before he begins to shudder beneath her. Seeing the rapture clearly written across his face is enough to send her after him as she rubs against him once more and gasps in pleasure when the tension inside her suddenly breaks and she shatters into a million pieces.

When she opens her eyes, she's still straddling Harry, her arms supporting her weight as her palms press against his chest, her elbows locked and her head hanging down over him. With a contented sigh, she lifts her head and gazes down on her lover. His face is relaxed, his eyes closed, and his chest, which she could feel was heaving just a moment ago, is rising and falling rhythmically as he breathes in and out. She lifts herself off him, but he doesn't stir, just releases an inarticulate moan as he slides out of her, making her smile softly. Then she kisses his cheek and covers him with the duvet.

 


	17. Chapter 17

When he opens his eyes a little while later, he finds the bed beside him empty. He lifts his head, but she's not in the room. He glances at the clock and sits bolt upright in shock. It's eleven o'clock. Swinging himself out of bed, he makes his way into the en suite and comes out ten minutes later, freshly showered and shaved. He gets dresses in jeans and a shirt before going over to make the bed and draw the curtains. It's pouring outside and he swears under his breath, annoyed that he's going to have to drive in this weather. Then he moves over to the bedside table and picks up his phone, making a quick call to Tom to see if everything's all right and to let him know that he and Ruth are taking the day off.

“Having a nice lie in today, Harry?” Tom teases.

Harry grins, but his voice is level as he replies, “Actually, I've got some things to attend to. Let me know if anything important crops up, Tom. I'll be out of town for the day.”

“Of course, Harry,” Tom answers.

“Good,” he says and rings off.

Slipping on his socks, Harry heads downstairs to find Ruth and locates her in the kitchen drinking a cup of tea.

“Good morning, Sleepyhead,” she smiles.

Without a word, Harry walks up to her, pulls her from her chair, and envelops her in a hug before pressing his lips on hers firmly. “Thank you,” he murmurs as soon as he pulls back, loosening his hold on her a little so he can look into her eyes.

“It was fun,” she grins.

“Fun,” he says in a low rumble, “doesn't even begin to describe it, Ruth.”

She kisses his cheek and asks, “Breakfast or lunch?”

“Yes,” he agrees. “Breakfast sounds good before we set off.”

“So we're going then, are we?” she asks.

“I gave him my word,” he replies simply before releasing her and turning to get himself something to eat.

 

_* * *_

 

Ruth watches the passing scenery out of the passenger window of Harry's car. England's so beautiful with all its green fields and farms separated by hedge rows, she thinks. The scenery reminds her of train rides back to Oxford after the summer holidays and the heightened sense of anticipation she'd always felt, looking forward to another term of books, learning, and spending time with friends. She'd enjoyed university very much, especially the freedom of doing what she wanted when she wanted to, a freedom which had been sorely lacking in her life since her father's death.

They'd left Harry's house about an hour ago and have made good time despite the appalling weather. It's lucky today's a Sunday. Work's slow and it had been no problem getting the day off for both of them. The traffic's also been good and they should be there in good time, especially now that the rain is letting up.

She glances over at her companion. His expression is unreadable and she wonders what he's thinking. He hasn't said much since they'd left London behind and has been even more quiet than usual. What little knowledge she has of his family is derived from reading his file, something she's not sure if he's aware that she's done. After all, she had to get her hands on it by stealth. She's been reluctant to bring up his family, hoping that he would share some things about his past when he was ready. Now, as she watches him quietly, she wonders if he'll ever open up to her. She's always known that there's a good chance he never will, and she's ready to accept him just the way he is, but she can't help feeling that they're missing out on an intimacy and closeness that would bring them untold happiness. Perhaps with time they'll both learn to trust each other completely.

After all, she can't really complain. She hasn't exactly been open when it comes to her own past either. Talking about her father makes her tear up, and as to her step-father and brother, that just makes her angry. Even her mother's not someone she's close to. She calls her about once a month out of filial duty, but she doesn't confide in her, and their phone calls never last very long. She hadn't even mentioned her relationship with Harry, and she dreads to think of all the criticisms that she'll come up with when she does, as surely she'll have to now; she can't really get married without inviting her mother to the wedding.

In the last few months, she's come to realise that her mother's deeply unhappy, and most likely, depressed. Of course, her mother would never admit such a thing, hiding behind a mask of negativity that's designed to keep people at bay, lest anyone notice how unhappy she truly is. A couple of times, Ruth's tried to get her to talk about it, but her mother has reacted by pulling away and lashing out with some criticism of her daughter, so she's given up.

Her own relationship with Harry has helped her to see what she'd failed to realise before, namely, that her mother was devastated by her first husband's death. Ruth could still remember clearly how close, how happy they'd all been when she'd been little, and how everything had fallen apart when her dad had passed away. It had been sudden and unexpected; one moment he was there and the next he was gone for ever. Her mother had fallen to pieces, and Ruth suspects now that she'd been sent off to boarding school because her mum couldn't cope with caring for her in the midst of a grief that was all consuming. Sometimes she wonders if things would have turned out better for both of them if her mother had let her say at home and been forced to look after her. Perhaps it would have helped her overcome her grief instead of burying it deep inside her. But she hadn't done that. Instead, within a year, she'd remarried to a man she didn't love because, Ruth now realised, she needed comfort, purpose, and a form of distraction, a means to forget. But she never managed to come to terms with the loss of James Evershed, the man she'd loved so completely, and as a result, had made herself and everyone around her unhappy.

Ruth had hated going home during the school holidays. Her mother was distant, her step-father was always equally detached except when he drank a little too much and then he became nasty, verbally abusing everyone around him, and her step-brother, Peter, was always teasing her, which would have been normal behaviour for a brother if they'd shared any kind of bond or emotional connection, but as they were practically strangers living under the same roof for a few months a year, it was unbearable. She'd had no friends around except for Matt, and when he went on holiday with his parents, there was no one to talk to for days on end. The best she could hope for was an invitation to stay with a friend for a week or two, and when those invitations came, she'd jump at the chance to get away. But they didn't come very often as she was a shy child and didn't have many friends.

Then the year before she'd left for university, Matt had been away for Christmas and Peter had managed to convince her to run away with him to Blackpool, and she still has no idea why she'd agreed. While they were away, they'd got drunk and done really stupid things almost every night, a behaviour that was unheard of for her but quite common for Peter. On one of those nights, she'd lost her virginity to him. In the morning, she'd been horrified by what had happened and had left him to go home. Her memory of that night was never very clear, but she remembers enough to know that she was a full participant in what had happened. Even so, since that night, she hasn't really spoken to Peter and he's always seemed equally reluctant to talk to her. She'd been immensely grateful that she hadn't got pregnant as a result of her stupidity. However, it had been a good lesson for her and she'd never allowed herself to get so drunk since then and had avoided making friends with people like Peter.

She sighs as she recalls these events, causing Harry to turn his head toward her and ask, “You okay?”

“Fine,” she nods. “Just thinking.” She needs to talk to him about it, she realises as she turns to look at him once more. Not today but soon, before they marry, she promises herself.

She watches as he purses his lips and frowns, but he doesn't say anything for a little while. Then he murmurs, “My dad,... he can be a little... rough round the edges at times. He's been alone for a long time and, well... he speaks his mind freely and likes to ask awkward questions... He means well.”

She nods and replies, “I understand.”

He turns to look at her briefly and lifts his left hand from the steering wheel to squeeze her knee as he adds, “Just let me know if it gets too much for you, and we'll leave.”

“I'll be fine,” she smiles, placing her hand over his reassuringly. “I'm sure he's a walk in the park compared to my own family, Harry. Besides, people generally behave very differently around strangers, especially those who have a big influence over their children.”

“That's true,” he murmurs, “but we should establish a code word that you can use to let me know you want to leave.”

“A code word?” she smiles.

“Yes,” he replies seriously. “It works much better than trying to communicate with signals or body language.”

“All right, Double-oh-seven,” she answers, “what's the code word?”

He chuckles and replies, “Well, Miss Moneypenny, how about rabbit?”

“Rabbit?” she laughs.

“Sure,” he nods. “How often do you say the word rabbit in conversation? It has to be a word that isn't used very often but can be said without sounding too odd. For instance, do you get many rabbits around here? Or, when I was a boy, my brother and I used to shoot rabbits with our slingshots.”

“Really?” she asks in surprise as a worried look crosses her face.

“No, not really, Ruth,” he sighs, turning back to watch the road. “I just made that up. We made forts and played soldiers most of the time against the Stevens brothers, who lived two doors down.” A fond smile appears on his lips and he adds, “We were a good team, Ben and I. We nearly always won despite the fact that there were three of them and only two of us, though Ben did end up getting killed a lot.” He stops speaking suddenly and clears his throat as he pulls his hand out of her grasp and places it back on the steering wheel. “We'll be there soon,” he says.

“I'm sorry, Harry,” she whispers. “You must miss him a lot.”

He nods once in acknowledgement but doesn't say anything, and she lets the subject drop, knowing that now isn't the time to force his confidence.

 

* * *

 

“Nervous?” he asks as he turns to look at her after turning off the engine.

“A little,” she acknowledges quietly.

“Don't be,” he replies, reaching his hand over to grasp hers. “I'm sure he'll love you, and if he doesn't, it doesn't matter. _I_ love you and I'm going to marry you regardless of whether he approves or not.”

She smiles at him and reaches over to kiss his cheek, murmuring, “Thank you.”

“Come on then,” he says and gets out of the car.

Thankfully, it isn't raining here and it even looks like the sun might come out from behind the clouds if they're lucky. He walks round the car while Ruth gets out, and after locking it, he takes her hand in his and leads her toward a small, white cottage. It's a pretty, little house and the small front garden looks well cared for, though none of the flowers are yet in bloom. It'll look lovely a little later in the year, Ruth thinks as they approach the garden gate.

“Did you grow up here?” she asks.

“No,” he replies. “My dad moved here after he retired.”

He pushes the gate open with his free hand and it squeaks rather loudly. They walk up the garden path to the front door, but before they reach it, it opens and Harry's father, James, steps out to greet them. He's a little shorter than Harry, Ruth notes, but their build is the same and the resemblance between them striking. Then have the same cheek bones and nose, the same forehead and the same hair, thought James's looks fairer now that it's turned grey.

“Hello, Dad,” Harry says as they stop in front of him.

“Hello,” James replies and turns to Ruth, smiling at her warmly and taking her small hand in his larger one. “You must be Ruth. Welcome. I'm very pleased to meet you.”

Harry must have his mother's eyes, she thinks as meets his gaze and replies, “Thank you. I'm pleased to meet you too, Mr. Pearce.”

“None of that now,” he frowns at her, making his clear, blue eyes flash. “It's James.”

“James,” she repeats with a soft smile.

“Well,” he says as he turned to Harry, “You weren't exaggerating, Son. She _is_ wonderful.”

Blushing at the complement, Ruth glances at Harry who moves forward and embraces his father as he murmurs, “You're looking good, Dad. It's good to see you again so soon.”

“Liar,” James grumbles as he returns his son's embrace. “If I hadn't managed to get you to give me your word, you would never have brought her here, except maybe for my funeral.” Then releasing Harry, he turns to Ruth and adds, “But perhaps, Ruth, you would have convinced him to bring you here before that. I'm jolly glad he did. But where are my manners? Come in; come in. How about some lunch and a cup of tea?”

“That would be lovely,” Ruth smiles and follows him into the house.

A short while later all three of them walk into the conservatory, Harry in front carrying a tray with three steaming mugs of tea and a plate of sandwiches and one of shortbread biscuits, and the others following. They sit down at the table and Ruth admires the room and garden, “It's lovely here. Such a nice place to sit when it's too cold to be out in the garden. Do you take care of the garden yourself, James?”

“Yes, I do,” he nods. “One of my favourite hobbies. Do you garden?”

“A little,” Ruth admits. “I enjoy it very much, but rarely have the time for it.”

“I never had the time till I retired,” he admits. “Fiona used to take care of it until she passed away. She loved it, especially the roses.”

“You must really miss her,” Ruth murmurs quietly, noting the wistful look in his eyes.

“Always,” he replies. “She was a remarkable woman, full of life and laughter. ' _Carpe diem_ , James,' she used to say every time I claimed I didn't have time to do something. I wish I'd listened to her more, spent more time with her, worked fewer hours. She made me a better man, Ruth. God knows what she saw in me, a grumpy, old sod. She was an angel. She had long blond hair that was always tied in an elegant plat, beautiful dark, hazel eyes, and a gorgeous smile.” He smiles softly as he gazes out the window thinking of his wife. Then he turns round to face them again, and looking at Harry, he adds, “Harry has his mother's smile. It's a shame we don't see it very often.”

“I know,” Ruth nods as she too looks at Harry. Then without thinking, she adds cheekily, “The Pearce male grumpiness must be too strong an influence.”

Harry looks momentarily stunned at her daring before a smile appears on his face and his eyes sparkle in delight. James blinks in surprise and then bursts out laughing, while Ruth blushes scarlet and looks down as a small smile curls her mouth up at the edges.

“She's right, Harry,” James chuckles. “You and I are both grumpy, old buggers.” Then he turns to Ruth and adds, “Fiona would have _loved_ you. You're just the kind of woman Harry needs.”

“Thank you,” Ruth murmurs, still blushing.

Noting Ruth's discomfort, Harry steers the conversation away from her by asking his father about the local cricket matches that he umpires, and they talk for some time on the subject. James does steer the conversation back to Ruth after a while, however, asking her a variety of questions about herself and her family, but Harry is good about protecting her when he notes that it's getting too much for her, or the questions are too personal, and she's very grateful.

She excuses herself to use the bathroom, and when she returns, she spies a record player in the corner of the room. Noting that Harry and his father are engages in a heated discussion of some sport or other, she walks up to it and looks through the rows of LPs she finds there. It is an extensive collection and she smiles fondly as her eyes catch on several titles that used to be her father's favourites, triggering several childhood memories.

“Find anything you like,” James asks, breaking into her reverie.

“Yes,” she smiles. “Several I used to listen to with my father. May I play one?”

“You seem a little young to know how to use that machine,” James jokes as he approaches.

“Appearances can be deceptive,” Ruth smiles as she holds out the record she's selected for him to play.

“Indeed,” he nods and looks down at the cover. “Ah, Carmen. One of my favourites. You have good taste.”

“Thank you,” she replies. “I love the opera. I remember visiting the Royal Opera House to see La Traviata with my parents when I was ten. It was a special treat for my birthday.”

James turns on the music and they sit to listen to it, all three of them enjoying it immensely. Once it's finished, they have a long discussion on music which is very open and pleasant, and the next time Ruth glances at the clock as Harry gets up to use the loo, she's surprised to find that they've been here a full two hours. She's been having such a good time that she hasn't noticed the time fly past. She says as much to James, who looks really pleased that she's enjoying herself. There are a few moments silence between them, and then Ruth plucks up her courage and says, “James, Harry never mentions his mother. Why is that?”

He sighs and rubs his hand across his eyes momentarily before looking back at her. “He misses her too much, I expect. I never used to talk about her myself, but I find now that it soothes my soul to do so. As I get older, I worry sometimes that I'll forget her if I don't speak of her.” He pauses for a moment and gets up, walking over to the small table in the corner of the room and coming back holding a picture. He hands it to Ruth and says, “That's her with Ben and Harry when the boys were - oh, I don't know – eight and eleven? They were very close, Fiona and Harry, and her loss hit him hard. She used to worry so much about him,” he confides. “He was always so full of restless energy. In school he was nearly always the instigator of trouble, though he never let it get in the way of his studies. He was always as sharp as a razor, was our Harry. Never had to try very hard to achieve anything. Ben was the steady, reliable one and he worshipped the ground Harry walked on. Used to do anything his brother asked him to, and Harry never abused that to get Ben into trouble. He looked out for his little brother. Fiona always used to say that Harry has the most loyal heart in the world, but she worried that he'd never find true happiness because he never let himself slow down and enjoy what he had. He was always after the next adventure even before the current one was over. He got bored easily and was a restless soul.

“After we lost Fiona, he was devastated. He loved his mother very deeply and they were close. She was the only one he would talk to. Once she was gone, I think he just felt alone. You see, I was always the one who laid down the law at home, and believe me, Harry needed me to do that. Ben was younger, and I think Harry saw it as his duty to protect him, so Fiona was the only one he'd confide in and she understood him better than we, Ben and I, did. When I'd first met her, she'd had the same restless energy that Harry has. So her loss was especially hard for him, but it also turned him into a man almost overnight. He knuckled down after her death, finished university with a first, went to Sandhurst, and joined the army. When he came out the other end, he'd learned to control his impulses, to direct his energy in a constructive way, and to focus his ambition. It was the best thing for him, and I've never been sure if he'd have managed that, had Fiona still been with us today. I've always found it comforting to think that, that was the silver lining.”

Harry walks into the room just then and both James and Ruth turn to look at him as silence descends between them. Harry glances quickly from one to the other and comments dryly, “I wondered why my ears were burning.”

“As if you weren't eaves dropping from behind the door, Son!” James retorts as his eyebrows shoot up in disbelief. “Anyway, what I was saying is no secret. You may have learned self-control and to focus your energy to achieve what you want, but your mother was right; you've never let yourself slow down enough to enjoy what you have and be happy... until now. Now, I think, you know what happiness is.”

Harry holds his father's gaze for a moment before he turns his eyes on Ruth. His father's right; now he knows what it means to be truly happy, and he finds that, when he's with Ruth, time slows down and every minute seems to last an eternity as he basks in her love and is renewed by it. He watches her now as her eyes soften and she gazes at him in open adoration, and he can't help the smile that tugs at his lips and the love that shines from his eyes.


	18. Chapter 18

_9 th March 1998,_

_London_

 

“So as you can see from this footage-” Ruth says as she nods at the screen in front of her before she's interrupted by a gasp from Zoe.

Harry turns toward her with a frown and asks, “Is something the matter?”

Her eyes are fixed on Ruth's left hand as Harry addresses her, but she quickly turns toward him and shakes her head. “No,” she stammers. “I mean, it's nothing to do with the case. It's just that...” She tails off as she quickly glances back at Ruth, who's now shifted the remote control to her right hand and slipped her left hand behind her back.

“What?” Harry asks in exasperation, noting that the interest of his other officers has been piqued and knowing from prior experience that it'll be easier to get there attention back to the briefing if this other issue is dealt with first, whatever it might be.

“It's nothing, really,” Zoe murmurs. “It can wait.”

“Go on,” Danny encourages, too curious now to let the subject drop.

Zoe glances back up at Ruth and then turns her gaze on Harry before letting it flick to each of her colleagues in turn. Harry pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes in an effort to hold onto his temper that's rising quickly as more time is waisted. “What?!” he demands loudly all of a sudden.

“I think,” Tom replies as he steps in to rescue a startled Zoe, “Zoe's trying to point out the fact that Ruth's wearing what is, without a doubt, an engagement ring this morning, and she was wondering if congratulations are in order.”

The colour rises quickly to Ruth's cheeks and she looks down at the table, unable to meet anyone's gaze, but Harry simply blinks and clears his throat before inclining his head slightly and murmuring, “Yes, Tom. Ruth has agreed to marry me.”

“Oh, that's wonderful!” Zoe exclaims. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Harry replies and can't help the grin that spreads across his face as he turns to look at Ruth. She's raised her head and is looking at him, smiling softly for a moment before the rest of their colleagues claim their attention by stepping forward with their own congratulations. He lets the subject of his and Ruth's engagement be discussed for a few minutes, content in the knowledge that his team is happy for them, before he curtails the discussion on their wedding plans and draws their attention back to the true purpose of their meeting by saying, “As pleasant as this interlude is, it's time to turn our attention back to the true purpose of this briefing. Ruth?”

Ruth smiles at him and nods her head as she turns back to the screen and continues from where she'd left off, and he watches with a fond half-smile as her blush subsides and her confidence increases now that she's back in her element.

 

* * *

 

Later that night as they lie in bed, Harry murmurs softly, “So what kind of wedding would you like?”

“I don't think I want a traditional one,” Ruth replies immediately. “I don't have anyone to give me away,” she adds sadly.

Harry kisses the top of her head and says, “And I don't have a best man.”

Silence falls between them for a few moments as they both think of their lost loved ones. Then Ruth says, “I think he would have approved of you.”

“Approved?” he asks with a smile.

“All right,” she chuckles, “perhaps not approved, but I think Dad would have liked you. You're a good person and a gentleman... and you love cricket.”

“But not as much as I love his daughter,” he murmurs softly and presses his lips to hers as she tilts her head to look at him.

“Another point in your favour,” she grins when they break apart.

“Indeed,” he smiles. “So... not a traditional wedding in a church, which leaves?”

“Maybe a registry office,” she says thoughtfully. “I'd like to have a look at the venue though. I don't want to get married just anywhere. I'm guessing you want a small wedding?”

“I don't think we know enough people to have a large one even if we wanted to, Ruth,” he answers.

“I'd like a small one anyway,” she replies. “Something intimate with only our close family and friends present.”

“Who do you want to invite?” he asks.

“Tom, Zoe, Danny, Malcolm, Sally, my mother, your dad,” she says, counting them off on her fingers, “Matt and Natalie. I suppose I'll have to invite my step-brother and step-father. Possibly Maggie and Anne, my friends from Uni. Um... I can't think of anyone else. What about you?”

“Well,” he murmurs, “other than those you mentioned, I have a couple of mates from my army days that I could invite, Andy and Brendan, and then there's Catherine and Graham, though I doubt that they'll come, and that's it.”

“So a total of seventeen people plus their partners,” she states. “Gosh, we're popular, aren't we?”

“So long as I have you,” he whispers as he moves closer, “I'm the luckiest man alive.”


	19. Chapter 19

_28th March 1998,_

_London_

 

“Harry?” she murmurs quietly as they sit side by side on the sofa watching TV.

“Yes?” he replies, turning toward her and taking her hand in his, linking their fingers together.

“I think I should tell you a little about my family before we visit them tomorrow,” she says timidly.

He can sense her reluctance to talk about this and he understands the difficulty; he finds it equally hard to talk about his family. “Okay,” he says and switches off the TV.

“Don't,” she murmurs. “It's easier to talk with it on.”

“All right,” he nods and flips it back on. “I'll just turn it down then so I can hear you clearly.”

She fidgets for a little while with her jumper without saying anything, so he sits up and reaches for both her hands, saying, “We don't have to do this now, Ruth.”

“No,” she shakes her head. “I need to. You have a right to know.”

He nods and begins to feel a little apprehensive at her words, his mind conjuring up all kinds of images of abuse that Ruth might have endured. He swallows and pushes them aside quickly as he tugs on her hands and says, “Stand up a moment.” She does and he sits back, lying down along the sofa with his head resting on the armrest and saying, “Lie in front of me, Ruth.”

She smiles and grabs the blanket from the armchair before lying down in front of him with her back toward him and draping the blanket over them. Harry wraps one arm around her waist and she lays her arm over his, sliding her fingers through his again.

“Now,” he murmurs against her hair, “I think we're ready to begin.”

“We used to be very happy when I was little,” she says after a few moments. “My dad was a doctor and he worked hard, but he always had time for me and my mum. Every evening I used to sit with him and we'd read, or he'd tell me stories, or we'd listen to music, and if he was late back home, Mum used to let me stay up in my pyjamas sometimes until he arrived.

“When he died, I was devastated. I think I cried for two weeks straight and Mum wasn't must better than me. Matt was great when it happened. He came round to see me every day and that's went we became really close. Anyway, I don't think Mum could cope with taking care of my needs as well as her own, so that September, she sent me off to boarding school in France. The school was nice and everyone was kind to me, and in time, I grew to like it there, but I missed home, I missed my mum and dad, and Matt.

“Mum remarried less than a year after Dad died, and I hated her for it. I couldn't understand how she could move on so quickly. I hated going home after that, and I'm sure I made her life and my step-father's life very difficult. I can see now that she was deeply unhappy and remarried only to distract herself from her grief. I don't think she ever came to terms with my father's death. She loved him so much, you see.

“Anyway, the only bright spot about going home, at that time, was seeing Matt. Peter was annoying at best and we never really became friends. My mother tried to remain close to me; she's not a bad parent, but I was so angry that I wouldn't let her in, and I think, in time, she just gave up. My step-father, David, never liked me very much, but as I never liked him either it never bothered me. They weren't happy together, David and my mum. I don't think they were ever happy together, but with time, things grew worse and worse.

“Then in my final year of school, I'd come to stay for Christmas, something I usually avoided if I could help it. Anyway, this year I had to come home and when I got there, things between David and Mum were worse than ever. David always had a tendency to drink too much and then he'd get really nasty, shouting and calling everyone names. And that Christmas, he was drunk almost everyday, shouting abuse at everyone around him. Mum never took it lying down, and to this day, I'm surprised that their rows never turned physical. Thankfully for all of us, however, David never struck her.

“One day, Peter said to me, “I can't stand this any more. Let's get out of here.” I asked him what he meant and he suggested we take his car and go away to Blackpool for a week until it was time for me to return to school.”

Harry can feel her tense up as she speaks and when she pauses and doesn't continue for some time, he begins to fear the worst again and he asks, “Did he... hurt you? Did he...?”

“No,” she shakes her head and he relaxes a little.

“So what happened?” he asks.

“We ran away and spent a few days drinking too much and doing all sorts of stupid things, culminating in having sex together,” she replies, her voice getting quieter and quieter as she speaks.

He swallows and his arm tightens around her middle as he murmurs, “How old were you?”

“Seventeen,” she replies. “Peter was nineteen, almost twenty. I don't remember much about it, we were both very drunk. I know it was concentual. He didn't force me... It hurt a little, but maybe that was because... it was my first time.”

“What did your mother say?” he murmurs, holding onto his rising temper with difficulty.

“I've never told her,” she answers. “I took the train home the next morning, and she was so pleased to see me safely home that she didn't insist on knowing where I'd been as she normally would have. I didn't tell her I'd been with Peter, and he and I have never really talked since. I mean, we say hello, but we've been avoiding each other for years.”

They're silent for a time, and though he knows that she's waiting for him to say something, he doesn't until he's managed to get the anger he's feeling under control, so that his voice is soft and gentle when he says, “I'm sorry, Ruth.” She squeezes his hand with her own and he adds, “Thank you for telling me this. I understand how hard it must have been to do that.”

“I'm glad I've told you,” she replies, her heart feeling suddenly much lighter. “You're the first person I've ever told.”

“You didn't tell Matt?” he asks in surprise, his heart swelling with pleasure to be the first person she's trusted with this.

She shakes her head and murmurs, “I was too embarrassed to tell him.”

“It wasn't your fault, Ruth,” he says fiercely, unable to hide his outrage this time as he realises that she blames herself for what had happened.

“I shouldn't have drunk so much,” she replies quietly. “I've never done it since.”

Bottling up his anger for her sake, he gently guides her to turn toward him and makes sure she's looking into his eyes before he repeats softly, “It wasn't your fault, Ruth. You were still a child. You should have felt safe in your home. You shouldn't have had to run away because your mother and step-father were arguing, and you should have been able to trust your step-brother. It wasn't your fault.”

He watches her as she blinks and the tears begin to gather in her eyes. Soon they're streaming down her face as he turns her toward him and gathers her in his arms. “It's okay, Ruth. It's okay now,” he murmurs against her hair and presses a soft kiss to it as he cradles her in his arms, letting her sob into his shirt, releasing the tension that's probably been locked inside her for years. Cold fury surges through him as he contemplates what had happened to her. She may not have been raped, but she's been carrying a guilt similar in many ways to that carried by victims of rape for more than a decade. How could her mother not have noticed? And her step-brother? What the hell had he been thinking? If Peter Hague had been in this room right now, nothing and no one could have prevented him from beating him to within an inch of his life, such is his rage. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply through his nose as he gets his emotions back under control with well practised skill. He's going to have a word with him tomorrow, he decides once his temper is back under control. Peter Hague is going to apologise and take full responsibility for his actions.

 


	20. Chapter 20

_29th March 1998,_

_London_

 

“So, Harry,” David asks as Ruth and Harry take a seat on the sofa side by side, “what can I get you?”

“Nothing for me, thank you, David,” Harry replies. “I'm driving.”

“A safety conscious fellow,” he comments. “I can see why Ruth likes you. She's always been far too cautious for her own good.”

“Don't talk nonsense, David,” Elizabeth admonishes lightly. “Ruth's done very well for herself.”

“Thanks, Mum,” Ruth murmurs in surprise.

“So, Harry,” Elizabeth asks, “what do you do for a living?”

“I work with Ruth,” he replies.

“The Department of Environment, Food, and Rural Affairs?” David asks, the contempt in his voice evident. “What exactly do you do there?” But at that moment the doorbell rings, and David smiles as he says, “Ah, that must be Peter and Angela.”

“Angela?” Ruth asks her mother as David leaves to answer the door.

“Peter's girlfriend,” Elizabeth explains, “Angela Wells. They've been together for over a year now Ruth,” she adds reproachfully. “I know I've mentioned her before.”

“Ah, yes,” Ruth nods even though she'd sure that her mother hasn't mentioned her at all. Contradicting her mother, however, wouldn't achieve anything at this point except spark an argument.

Her thoughts and her mother's response are cut short as David enters the room with Peter and Angela just behind him. Introductions are made and Ruth notes the glimmer of recognition that appears in Harry and Angela's eyes as their gazes meet, though they both pretend that they've never met before. She can't help wondering at it and her mind involuntarily and rather rapidly conjures up images of Harry in bed with Angela. Shaking her head free of these disturbing thoughts, she shakes Angela's hand in greeting before turning to Peter and murmuring, “Hello, Peter.”

“Hi, Ruth,” he replies, giving her a brief smile before turning to Harry and shaking his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Harry.”

“Likewise,” Harry says, though the steely look he gives him conveys quite the opposite message, and much to his satisfaction, Peter looks away uncomfortably.

Ruth feels her heart swell in gratitude and she slides her hand through Harry's arm, causing him to look down at her and smile softly. It's the first time that someone has been there to protect her from Peter and the rest of her family, and though the rational part of her brain knows that they've never been a real threat to her, she appreciates the feeling of security this produces inside her. It suddenly becomes very clear to her how vulnerable she's always felt inside her own home, and she's appalled by it, recognising in an instant how damaging it's been for her all these years.

She's so caught up in these thoughts that she doesn't register the questioning look Angela directs at Peter. Harry doesn't miss a thing, however, and finds immense satisfaction in the knowledge that Peter's going to have a lot of explaining to do to his girlfriend later tonight.

“Drink?” David offers, effectively breaking through the tension that's sprung up between the four of them.

“Yes, please,” Peter replies and walks over to the where his father's standing, pouring the drinks, while Ruth and Harry resume their seats on the sofa and Angela turns toward the arm chair. During the brief flurry of activity around them, Harry takes the opportunity to succinctly explain in a whisper who Angela is, and Ruth's very relieved to discover that she's not one of Harry's past conquests.

Conversation in the living room and at the dinning table is rather stilted and the atmosphere tense. Harry gives little information about himself away, but the love he feels for Ruth is evident to all those present. Elizabeth, though a little cold toward him initially, begins to thaw a little as the meal progresses, much to Ruth's surprise. She wonders at the absence of her usual negativity, but quickly comes to the conclusion that it's a result of the competitive spirit that has always underlined the interaction between her mother and step-father, which she'd momentarily forgotten about. Whenever, she and Peter were in the house at the same time, their parents would always, perhaps unconsciously, compete over who's child was better, and as it's been several years since she's seen Peter, it's not surprising she'd failed to remember this detail.

It saddens her very much to realise just how broken her mother has become, and she fervently hopes that she never reaches such a point herself. She promises herself as she studies her mother quietly that she'll never bottle up her grief like that when Harry dies, knowing that the probability of him dying first is very high given their age difference.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs softly near her ear, snapping her out of her melancholy thoughts.

She smiles at him and nods her head though she can't bring herself to speak. She reaches her hand over to him, rests it on his thigh, and feels his hand slide over hers, offering silent support and comfort as she turns and focuses her attention again on Peter, who's sharing one of his Princess Diana stories. She's never heard it first hand, of course, seeing as she avoids her step-brother like the plague, but her mother has told her enough of these stories to realise that they're repeated often at home.

Harry smiles politely as Peter's story comes to an end, taking in everyone else's reaction. Ruth and Elizabeth just smile, while Angela chortles and David guffaws loudly. It is a story told often in this house, he suspects, judging by the artificial display of mirth he's just witnessed from all those present. David is certainly very proud of his son's assignment to Princess Diana's protection detail, and Harry has found himself on the receiving end of several jibes for being merely a civil servant. It doesn't bother him in the least; he didn't join the security services to show off to the likes of David Hague. Besides, after what Ruth told him yesterday, his opinion of all present at the table wasn't very high to begin with, and he finds that they've actually dropped significantly in his estimation over the last hour.

He can't imagine growing up in a household like this, and he suspects that Ruth was very lucky to be sent to boarding school in the end. When he'd first read her file, he'd noted that her father's death had been closely followed by her transfer to a boarding school abroad and he'd been stunned. He'd wondered how a mother could do that to their child and had been so grateful for his own mother's love and patience over the years. He'd been so lucky, despite the fact that he'd lost her far too soon. Ruth had effectively lost both her parents at the same time and at such a young age.

He looks at his soon to be mother-in-law and has to agree with Ruth that she looks extremely unhappy. Unlike her daughter, however, he's less inclined to make excuses for her. She'd chosen to let herself go, unwilling to make an effort, to seek help even for the sake of her daughter. He's willing to concede that it can't have been easy for her, and he has to acknowledge that he himself isn't a particularly good parent, but he also knows that, if something had happened to Jane and he'd been left to care for his children alone, he'd have moved heaven and earth for them. He wouldn't have given up, and he suspects, that neither would Ruth if she'd been in her mother's shoes.

He turns his attention to Ruth as, for the first time, he considers the image of her as a parent. She'd make a wonderful mother, he's sure. She's loving, patient, firm, not overly cautious or anxious. She'd be perfect, much like his own mother had been, though their personalities are so very different. Ruth then must be more like her father than her mother, he concludes.

At that moment, Ruth, Angela, and Elizabeth begin collecting the dishes and carrying them through to the kitchen, breaking into his thoughts, so he gets up and begins to help them. Soon the table is set for dessert and Angela, Ruth and Harry resume their seats, as David gets up and leaves the room to get more booze, while Elizabeth is getting the dessert. Once it's just the four of them, Harry smiles, turning to Angela and saying, “So, Angela, you're looking good. It's good to see you again after all these years.”

“Likewise, Harry. I heard you made Head of Section a few years ago. I was surprised to hear you'd opted for a desk job,” she smirks.

“There comes a time when one realises that the advantages of moving up through the ranks outweigh the disadvantages of taking a back seat and trusting others to do the job,” he replies. “I hear you moved to A Section. How are they treating you over there?”

“You're in the Service?” Peter interrupts, his surprise evident.

“Indeed,” Harry confirms, “as is Ruth, of course. In fact, Peter, you seem to be the odd one out here.”

“What do you mean by that?” Peter demands hotly.

“Nothing in particular,” Harry shrugs, please to have gotten under his skin with his comment. “It was merely an observation.”

Peter opens his mouth to speak, but Angela silences him with a gentle touch to his arm. “And Ruth,” she smiles, though her eyes hold no warmth at all, “how does it feel to be dating the infamous Harry Pearce and your boss, no less?”

“Actually, Angela,” Ruth says, her eyes burning with animosity, “it's wonderful.”

“I'll bet,” she smirks. “Who doesn't like special treatment?”

Ruth glares at her, but Harry gently squeezes her hand in warning. She turns to look at him and he smiles softly at her. “Who wouldn't want to treat such a wonderful woman well?” he murmurs as he continues to gaze at her, though he doesn't fail to see Peter shift uncomfortably out of the corner of his eye.

David reappears at that moment, carrying several bottles of spirits, and Angela's next caustic comment dies on her lips. Ruth leans forward and kisses Harry's cheek before pulling back and turning toward her step-father, saying, “Nothing for me, thanks, David.”

“Nor for me,” Harry agrees, “but I'd love some of that rhubarb crumble, isn't it, Elizabeth?”

“Yes,” she smiles as she sets it down on the table and begins to serve it. “Cream or custard?” she asks.

“Custard, please,” Harry smiles, suddenly oozing charm as he graciously accepts the bowl Elizabeth hands him and takes a mouthful, expressing his deep appreciation of her culinary skills.

Ruth has to suppress a smile as she watches everyone's response. Her mother's smiling, as pleased a punch by his flattery, David and Peter look dumbfounded, and Angela's looking furious. If Harry keeps this up, she realises, he'll probably have her mother eating out of the palm of his hand by the end of their visit as long as world war three doesn't erupt between the members of her family first. Perhaps she'd better ask him to tone down the charm a little.

 

* * *

 

After their meal, Harry and Ruth help clear the table, while David takes Angela and Peter into his study to show them his new hunting rifle. Once the table is clear, Harry excuses himself to use the bathroom, wishing to give Ruth a change to talk to her mother and also needing to find an opportunity to speak to Peter alone. As luck would have it, he spots Peter's silhouette through the dinning room window, so he quickly slips out the front door.

“Taking a little break?” he asks casually as he approaches the other man and stands beside him. Peter Hague is a big bloke, taller and broader than Harry, but this doesn't phase Harry one bit. He knows that, despite the fact that he's no longer a field agent, he's in good enough shape to take on most men should it become necessary. His mental and physical agility is something he keeps well honed, and it's rare to meet with an opponent who can best him in both. Peter might be physically stronger, but he's nowhere near as sharp as Harry.

“Needed a fag,” Peter admits. “Want one?”

“No, thanks,” Harry replies. “I only smoke when I have to. Where's Angela?”

“Playing backgammon with Dad,” he shrugs. “He loves the game.”

There's a short silence between them before Harry breaks it, deciding that the direct approach is probably best. “Ruth told me... about Blackpool.”

“Blackpool,” he stammers, his face blanching as he meets Harry's intense, furious gaze.

“Yes,” he growls. “Do you have _any_ idea what you did to her?”

“I didn't,” he replies helplessly, his cigarette dropping to the ground as she turns his palms upwards. “I didn't force her. We... we were very drunk.”

“You were her _brother_ ,” he hisses, stepping forward threateningly and getting in his face. “She was _seventeen_ for fuck's sake.”

“I know, I know,” Peter admits, taking a step back and looking at the ground, his arms dropping helplessly to his sides. “I never meant for it to happen. I never meant to hurt her.”

Harry's surprised by Peter's reaction. He'd expected the other man to argue and place the blame squarely on Ruth's shoulders, but instead he's accepted responsibility for his actions. This fact alone is what holds him back. He wants to hurt the man standing before him so badly, but he knows that Peter's conscience has been doing that job for him for years now, and there's no pain that he could inflict that would make things any worse for him. If anything, Peter would probably welcome the physical pain that a broken nose would cause. It would make him feel better, make him feel that he'd been punished and could now forget and move on.

“Apologise to her,” Harry snarls before moving away, putting himself out of temptation's way. At the door, he turns and adds, “Before we leave today.”

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Ruth and her mother have been doing the washing up, rinsing the dishes and stacking the dishwasher, making small talk about neighbours and friends Ruth used to know.

Then as they turn to the task of making tea and coffee, Elizabeth asks, “How long have you and Harry been dating, Ruth?”

“Almost a year now,” she replies, adding quickly, “What do you think of him?” She doesn't want her mother to dwell on the fact that she'd failed to mention Harry until they'd become engaged and couldn't avoid it any longer.

“He seems very charming,” she answers, “though he's a bit old for you, Ruth. How old is he?”

“He's forty-four,” Ruth replies.

“That's quite a big age difference,” she frowns. “If you have children in another year or two, he'll be over sixty when they go to university.”

“Not everyone wants to have children, Mum,” Ruth bristles. “And in any case, so what if he's a little older. It's not important. We love each other; that's what matters.”

“You know that's not true, Dear,” she replies. “Love alone is never enough.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Ruth demands. “You married Dad for love.”

“Yes, and look where it got me,” she answers, gesturing around her with one hand.

“No, Mum,” Ruth replies determinedly, “This isn't where love got you. This is where you got to _without_ love.” Then she turns on her heel and leaves the kitchen, too angry to continue the conversation. Why can't her mother ever just be happy for her? As she rounds the corner into the hall, she almost walks into Harry who's just coming in from outside.

He catches her, his hands grabbing hold of her upper arms to steady her as he asks with concern, “You okay?”

She doesn't speak; she can't. Instead she shakes her head and takes a step toward him, wrapping her arms around his middle and holding onto him tightly as she fights the tears that spring to her eyes. His arms go round her, his right hand cradling her head against him as his fingers massage gently along her hairline and his lips press a soft kiss to her hair. It doesn't take long for her to calm down, his solid strength making her feel safe and his dexterous fingers draining the tension away. She sighs against his chest and pulls back, saying, “Thanks. I feel much better now.”

“Good,” he smiles. “Anything else I can do to help?”

“Take me home,” she sighs. “I've had enough.”

“Of course,” he replies.

Just then, Elizabeth comes out of the kitchen with a tray of tea things, and Harry immediately steps forward to help her carry it. “Thank you, Harry,” she smiles. “I can see why Ruth loves you so much.” She looks at her daughter and gives her a small smile before turning toward the sitting room. Harry turns to Ruth raising his eyebrows in question and she sighs and nods her head; they can stay for tea. Her mother's words and gentle look are as close to an apology as she's going to get, she knows, but at least it's something, and she really doesn't want to leave on an angry note. After all, the next time she sees her mother, it'll probably be at her wedding, and she wouldn't want that to be spoilt by unresolved tension from today. The two of them have enough issues without adding to them now.

They have their tea and the atmosphere in the room is more relaxed than it has been all day. Ruth and Peter are both quiet, but Angela and Harry make up for it. Harry makes an effort to be polite and charming to draw everyone's attention away from Ruth, who he can see is emotionally drained. He suspects that Angela's motives are a little different; she probably can't bear to be outdone by him; she was always very competitive, he recalls, and she almost certainly feels the need to prove that she's the better partner in this dysfunctional little family.

About half an hour later, they all get ready to head home. Peter exits first, wanting to smoke another cigarette before driving back to London, and Harry and Ruth soon follow him out after saying goodbye to Elizabeth, David, and Angela. The moment they step outside, however, Harry gives a meaningful look to Peter and then pretends to not be able to find his keys.

“I must have left them on the coffee table,” he says to Ruth. “I'll be right back.”

He turns and re-enters the house where he engages Elizabeth in a hunt for the missing keys. David is talking to Angela about hunting, but he still keeps an eye on them to make sure that Peter gets a change to apologise to Ruth.

Meanwhile, Ruth's a little uncomfortable to find herself alone with Peter, and after giving him a brief, forced smile, she murmurs, “Perhaps I'd better go help him look,” and turns toward the door.

“Ruth, wait!” Peter's voice stops her in her tracks and she turns toward him warily. He doesn't speak for several moments, and she can see that he's very uncomfortable and struggling to find his voice. Eventually he murmurs, “I'm sorry, Ruth... about what happened, what we did, what _I_ did.”

Her eyes narrow and she demands, “Harry put you up to this, didn't he?”

“Yes,” he sighs, and then seeing the anger in her eyes, he adds hastily, “No. I've known all along that what I did was... shameful. I've felt terrible about it for years, so really, I'm grateful to him for... compelling me to apologise.” He takes a step closer to her and murmurs earnestly, “I'm _so_ sorry, Ruth. I never meant to hurt you. I've always thought you were a wonderful girl, a wonderful woman. I wanted us to be friends, but you always seemed to hate me and I could never figure out how to get close. You were always talking to Matt, and I was so jealous... When I asked you to leave with me... I was in love with you.” Her eyes widen in amazement at his admission and he must see her surprise, because he smiles a little and says, “I didn't think you knew that. I've never been very good with girls.” He sighs and then murmurs, “I'm sorry for what I did. I shouldn't have talked you into running away, I shouldn't have drunk so much, I shouldn't have let you drink so much, and I certainly shouldn't have...” he pauses and then adds quietly, “I should have taken responsibility for my actions long ago. I'm sorry.”

She watches him warily, not quite realising the enormity of what has just happened. Eventually she whispers, “You know, I've never blamed you for what we did. I've always blamed myself. It was only yesterday when I told Harry and today when I brought him here that I understood how much I've been hurt by that.” He winces at her words and lowers his gaze, murmuring how sorry he is again. She sighs heavily and then says, “I wish you'd apologised like this ten years ago, Peter, but it's better late than never. I accept your apology and I hope, with time, we can finally move past this.”

He looks up at her again and she sees hope in his eyes. She holds out her hand and he takes it in his, shaking it gently as he murmurs, “Thank you, Ruth.”

Then he releases her hand and they stand around awkwardly for a few moments before Ruth sighs, “I suppose we'd better let Harry know that the coast is clear now.” She smiles and turns to walk back to the house, sticking her head in through the door and calling out, “It's all right, Harry. You can miraculously locate your keys now. Mission accomplished.”

He appears moments later with a sheepish expression on his face. Ruth glares at him for a few moments, but she can't keep it up for long in the face of the worried, yet loving look in his eyes. She sighs and takes a few steps forward until she's standing right in front of him. “I know you meant well,” she whispers softly, “but please don't ever do anything like that again.”

“Okay,” he nods solemnly. “I promise.”

“I love you,” she murmurs and reaches for him, pressing her lips against his in a soft, gentle kiss.

“I love you too,” he replies as she pulls back.

“I know,” she smiles. “Can we go now?”

“Yes,” he says and pulls his keys out of his pocket. Ruth looks up at him through narrowed eyes, but he just shrugs and gives her such a cheeky little smile that she can't help it; she begins to laugh.

“What's so funny?” Elizabeth asks as she walk into the room, but neither Ruth, nor Harry, hear her as they stand gazing at each other in open adoration, grinning from ear to ear.

 


	21. Chapter 21

_25 th April 1998,_

_Nottingham_

 

“May I cut in?” Matt asks with a smile as he and Natalie stop by Ruth and Harry on the dance floor.

Harry glares at him for a moment before he grudgingly agrees and switches partners with him. Ruth smiles at his discomfort and presses a kiss to his cheek before she allows Matt to take her in his arms and they begin to dance.

“Rather possessive, isn't he?” Matt teases gently.

“Sometimes,” she agrees. “I hate to think what he'd be like if I was a field officer. Anyway, it's only because you interrupted our dance. If you'd asked while we were sitting down, he wouldn't have minded.”

“Ah,” he grins, “but then it wouldn't have been as much fun.”

She laughs at that and says, “You really are terrible, Matt.”

“Well, I had to get my own back,” he frowns. “I'm still miffed that you got married first, Ms Evershed-Pearce.”

“Ah, that,” she grins. “It wasn't deliberate, I assure you. We just found the perfect venue for our small wedding and it was either available last week, or in a month's time. Harry didn't want to wait. I think he was scared I'd change my mind.”

“As if,” he murmurs.

“Anyway,” she smiles, “your wedding's so much more beautiful and elegant. The service was lovely and the reception's amazing. It must have taken you ages to organize all this, but it's well worth the effort. I'm a little jealous.”

“This took us months to organize, Ruth, as you well know,” he replies. “There's no way you could have done it in less than a month.”

“I know,” she sighs. “And in any case, we didn't want a traditional wedding. What with my father and Harry's best friend and brother not being with us any longer, we decided that we wanted something low key and intimate. I'm truly happy with what we had. It was lovely and we've got some wonderful pictures. Mum was a little critical, but she's always like that. I'm surprised to be honest that she didn't find more faults with it all.” Matt grins and wiggles his eyebrows at her, making her exclaim, “It was you! I should have known. What did you tell her?... No. On second thought, I don't want to know.” She smiles up at him and kisses his cheek. “Thank you, Matt,” she murmurs.

“Part of my wedding present,” he shrugs. “If she gets too much at any time, let me know. I seem to have found a way of getting through to her. You've had such a hard time of it since your dad passed away.”

“I'm lucky to have you,” she replies with a soft smile.

“I'd like my wife back now,” Harry interrupts just then, giving Matt one of his steely glares.

“No problem, Harry,” he grins. “I'd quite like my wife back too.”

They swap partners again and continue to dance. Ruth smiles happily to be back in Harry's arms and presses her body against him, turning her face sideways, nestling her nose under his chin, and sighing in contentment. She knows he's jealous, and she knows he knows it's irrational, so she doesn't say anything, merely enjoys being near him, wrapped in his arms. After a few moments, she feels him relax a little, so she murmurs, “Matt just told me that he had a chat with my mum about her tendency to criticise me and my decisions. It was very sweet of him. Apparently, that's why she was so well behaved at our wedding.”

He nods and she feels him tense a little, pulling her closer to his chest. A few moments pass before he speaks and then he asks, “You never told me, Ruth. Did you and he ever...?” He tails off, knowing that he shouldn't be asking this and feeling guilty and embarrassed that he has.

“I had a crush on him when I was thirteen,” she confides after a momentary hesitation. “We kissed a couple of times, I think, but with time my feelings, and his, changed. Now I love him like a brother. He's the only real family I have apart from you. And even if I'd never met you and fallen head-over-heels in love with you, I'd never have considered sleeping with him, Harry.” She lifts her head from his shoulder and their gazes meet. “I love _you_ and I want _you_. No one else.”

He nods and smiles softly as he murmurs, “I'm sorry, Ruth. I shouldn't-”

But she interrupts him saying, “It's fine, Harry. I quite like that you're jealous sometimes. You're not overly possessive, so it just makes me feel wanted.”

“You're the only one I want, Ruth,” he murmurs huskily. “No other woman can hold a candle to you.” He leans toward her and presses his lips against hers in a fierce kiss. When he pulls back, his eyes are dark with passion and he growls, “Do you think they'd notice if we slipped upstairs to our room?”

“I doubt it,” she smiles. “Besides, Matt's already read your intentions and is wiggling his eyebrows at me right now.”

Harry turns to look over his shoulder and spots Matt and Natalie grinning smugly as they watch them. “Brothers,” he sighs in exasperation, and taking Ruth by the hand, he leads her over to them, saying, “We're calling it a night. Congratulations again. I'm sure you'll both be very happy.”

“Thank you, Harry,” Natalie smiles.

Matt, however, gives him a cheeky grin and says, “Did something come up, Harry?”

“I expect a lot of things will come up tonight, Matt,” Harry replies deadpan.

Natalie bursts out laughing at his retort and the others can't help but join in. Then they shake hands, hug, and kiss good night before Harry leads Ruth by the hand out of the room to the lifts, and Matt murmurs to his wife, “They have the right idea, Nat. Can we set off on our honeymoon now?”

“Let's,” she smiles up at him and kisses his lips softly before they move off the dance floor to make the necessary arrangements.

 

 


	22. Epilogue

_29 th January 2000,_

_London_

 

He gazes down at his wife and baby daughter, feeling his heart overflow with love and joy. He's never been this happy before. Ruth looks up at him and smiles, her eyes shining in delight.

“She's beautiful, Ruth,” he murmurs huskily as he slides his hand onto her shoulder and reaches down to kiss her forehead. “Just like her mother.”

Ruth blushes and shakes her head, saying, “I'm a mess, Harry. I must look awful.”

“You don't,” he objects. “You look radiant. I've never seen you look more beautiful than you do right at this moment.”

“Thank you,” she replies, blushing and looking down at their daughter once more. “She's so perfect, Harry.”

“I know,” he nods and brings his other hand forward to stroke his daughter's dark, soft, downy hair. She has her mother's hair, he thinks as he slides his hand gently over it. Her eyes are closed and she's sleeping peacefully, her tiny chest rising and falling rhythmically as she breathes in and out.

She'd been very loud when she'd been born a little while ago, screaming the place down until she'd been placed on Ruth's chest and her mother had began to talk quietly to her, murmuring words of love and humming to her softly as she'd rubbed a soothing hand across her back. Then when she'd quietened down a little, she'd been ready to nurse, staring up at her mother with bright, inquisitive, hazel eyes as she'd suckled contentedly at her breast. It amazed him how Ruth had know exactly what to do, exactly what their daughter had needed even though this was her first child. He'd been much more nervous than her despite the fact that he'd done this twice before.

He wonders how his other children will react to their new baby sister, wonders if they'll be more jealous or pleased. He hopes the latter. Catherine's at university now and Graham's finishing school. He's been making more of an effort to see them both in the last year or so, and it's slowly paying off. Both of them are more open to him and Graham's doing much better in school lately, according to Jane. Spending more time with his children is what had made him realise that he wanted another chance at parenthood, wanted to try and get things right this time. He smiles as he thinks back to Ruth's birthday last year, the day he'd brought up the fact that he wanted to have a child with her.

They'd woken up almost at the same time, and after he'd wished her a happy birthday and they'd indulged in a very long and satisfying snogging session, they'd began to mentally prepare themselves for work. Ruth had sat up in bed and reached for her birth control pills on the bedside table when he'd said suddenly, “Don't take that.”

She'd turned toward him in surprise and asked, “What?”

“I want to have a baby,” he'd murmured in response, “with you.” He hadn't planned to tell her that on her birthday, but it _had_ been something he'd been thinking about for some time and it had just slipped out.

She'd stared at him for a long time before saying, “I don't know what to say.”

“Say that you'll think about it,” he'd suggested quietly. He'd been prepared for a less than enthusiastic response from her. He'd know she'd need time to process this, to analyse it.

“You really mean it, don't you?” she'd asked then in surprise.

“Yes,” he'd murmured simply. Then he'd waited a few seconds before asking, “Have you thought about having children, Ruth? Is it something you want?”

“Yes,” she'd whispered, and as she looked at him, he'd seen the first signs of hope and joy shining in her eyes. “I just didn't think you'd want that. You already have children and our jobs aren't best suited for raising a family.”

“Why wouldn't I want children with you, Ruth?” he'd asked in bewilderment. “I love you more than I'd ever thought possible. Why wouldn't I want to create a child from that love and share it with him or her? Our jobs are certainly busy, but we're both desk spooks now and we're not in as much danger. The only problem is the hours we have to work, but if you wanted to work less, you could reduce your hours, work part time. And I think that if you want to do this, to have a child with me, now is the best time. Neither of us are getting any younger.”

“That's true,” she'd frowned. “I'll be thirty next year and you'll be-”

“A lot more than that,” he'd interrupted, making her smile.

She'd looked thoughtful for a little while, but then she'd smiled brightly, and turning toward him, she'd cupped his cheeks with her hands and pressed her lips to his before pulling back and murmuring, “Okay. Let's have a baby, Harry.”

He'd grinned in delight then and pulled her toward him, rolling her underneath him and kissing her passionately. They'd made love that morning, despite knowing that it would make them late for work, and again in the evening. Ruth had stopped taking her birth control pills and had gone to the doctor for a check up that very day, getting the all clear to begin trying for a baby. Their love making in the next few weeks had been frequent and passionate, and Ruth had conceived remarkably quickly.

He'd enjoyed the next few months immensely, seeing her body change, feeling the first movements of his daughter inside her and his love for both of them grow. And now his daughter's here, out in the world, needing his protection and love. He vows to love her and protect her always as he stands near her, looking down on her angelic face.

“Take her for a bit,” Ruth whispers, breaking into his thoughts.

He nods and moves round to face his wife, ready to take his daughter into his arms for the first time. Ruth smiles as she hands her over and Harry straightens up with their baby girl in his arms. “I love you,” she murmurs softly and he lifts his eyes to look at her.

“I love you too,” he smiles.

“I know,” she replies as she lowers the bed and makes herself comfortable before closing her eyes with a sigh. “Life can't possibly get any better than this,” she murmurs.

He gazes at her tenderly for a moment longer before turning his eyes back to his new baby daughter. “Hello, Sweetheart. I'm your dad and I love you very, very much,” he murmurs and kisses her forehead softly as he walks over to the armchair in the corner of the room and sits down. He looks over at Ruth, but she's sleeping already, exhausted from her long labour. It's late and he knows he should be heading home soon to get some rest. However, he also knows that he's too excited to sleep right now, so he sits quietly in the corner for some time, watching over his new family and feeling like the luckiest man alive.

 

 


End file.
